


Alias

by LumosLyra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aliases, Coffee Shops, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Muggle Life, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra
Summary: Tired of being in the spotlight, Hermione Granger, makes the bold decision to abandon the wizarding world for the foreseeable future. She integrates herself back in the muggle world and enters into a budding romance with a doctor who happens to be none other than Draco Malfoy. What will happen when her best mates from school catch a sighting of her in a muggle newspaper?





	1. Chapter 1

alias _, noun_

  1. a false or assumed identity.; "a spy operating  **under the alias** Barsad"



_Synonyms:_ assumed name, false name, pseudonym, sobriquet, incognito

 

……….

 

Hermione Jean Granger idly smoothed the front of her charcoal skirt as she reorganized the stacks of papers on her desk.  Her chestnut colored hair was chemically straightened and was cropped just above her shoulders and parted to the side in a flattering bob.  Her mahogany eyes were framed by dark, sooty lashes while perfect white teeth flashed between rose colored lips as she smiled to herself.  The apples of her cheeks were painted in a comely brush and tiny freckles dotted her nose from too much time spent languidly laying in the sun, though summer was long over by now.

 

Her slender waist was highlighted by the emerald silk blouse which was tucked into her charcoal skirt.  Beneath the knee-length skirt was a pair of black, lightly patterned tights which flowed over a pair of shapely calves and into her simple, practical black pumps. Were it not for her inability to hide her emotions, anyone who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizards would have said the former Gryffindor alumnus looked every inch as though she belonged in Slytherin House.

 

Of course, there were only a handful of people she would expect to recognize her at this point in her life and she was no longer in contact with any of them.

 

Her magical past was something that rarely crossed her mind these days as she had been ten years removed from the wizarding world.  Her re-assimilation into the muggle world had been difficult at first, but after a few months she easily slipped into a routine and everything she recalled from summers spent with her family came back rather quickly.  She, or rather Maya Josephine Garrett, led a rather quiet life and was relatively happy in doing so.

 

Hearing the bell ring signaling the beginning of the school day, she moved from her place behind her desk and opened the door to her classroom, propping the door open with a doorstop.  Walking back into the classroom, the young teacher heard the commotion down the hall which signaled the arrival of her twenty-two students as they filed into the classroom, removing coats, tucking book bags into lockers, and settling in their desks. 

 

When Hermione made the decision to remove herself from the wizarding world, one of the first decisions she made as Maya Garrett was the enroll herself in a muggle university.  Forging the papers necessary for her admittance was easy enough and it was one of her last acts of magic nearly ten years ago.  After taking a few basic courses, Hermione made the decision to obtain her degrees in child development and elementary education.  Through her studies, she found contentment in teaching the mundane subjects, though she suspected she would enjoy teaching magical subjects just as much.  The joy came from shaping young minds and pushing each student to their full potential.  

 

A student with shaggy blonde hair wearing jeans that were much too baggy that he had to keep pulling them up, greeted the young teacher with a wave of his hand.  “Mornin, Ms. G!”  He said, shifting his backpack higher on his shoulder while his other hand held onto his pants. 

 

“Good morning, Sean.  How’s your mum?”  She asked with a kind smile knowing his mother had recently been admitted to the hospital with a ruptured appendix.

 

“She’s doing much better, thank you ma’am.  Dr. Moore took great care of her and she’s due to be discharged sometime tomorrow.  Gran is with her.”  Sean said with a smile. 

 

Hermione laid a kind hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “Please send your mother my wishes for a speedy recovery.  I’m so pleased to hear she’s doing well.” 

 

Sean gave her a nod and moved to put his things away when Hermione spoke again.  “I think you’ll like our speaker today.”  She said with a wink and a mischievous laugh. 

 

The warm smile on the boy’s face grew into an excited grin as he hurriedly took his seat at his desk.  As the class continued to settle into their seats, movement outside of her classroom caught her eye. A tall figure wearing a weight lab coat stood casually within the frame of her door, looking at a scrap of paper in his hand.  The man flashed her a dazzling smile that made his chiseled facial features, short light brown hair, and deep blue eyes even more alluring than she could have anticipated. 

 

The picture of him she had found on the internet from a story about the hospital didn’t do his appearance any justice.  Dr. Moore, the man standing in the doorway to her classroom, worked at the local hospital in general surgery.  He had taken over the position after Dr. Hart announced her retirement and had seamlessly integrated himself into the community surrounding the hospital. 

 

With a warm smile, Hermione invited the man into her classroom with a sweep of her arm.  “Welcome to our classroom, Dr. Moore.”  She said, shaking his hand firmly.  “We are so pleased you were able to join us today.” 

 

“The pleasure of mine, Ms. Garrett.”  He said as he stepped further into the classroom.  His voice sounded like velvet to her ears, a rolling baritone with a slight drawl.

 

Turning from their guest, Hermione turned confidently towards the sea of expectant faces who had been waiting for this visit for weeks.  “Class, please give Dr. Moore your undivided attention.  He has graciously agreed to speak with us about his career as a general surgeon.”  Hermione could almost see the students inch forward in their desks as the craned their necks, waiting for the handsome doctor to speak.  The girls especially looked ready to pounce and Hermione could already see dreamy smiles forming on several of their faces.  She would have to be careful to ensure her own dreamy smile was kept firmly in her mind, not on her lips. 

 

As he began his lecture, Hermione perched herself on a high stool near her desk to listen to him describe his medical training, residency, and current position at the local hospital.  Sean agreed with unabashed enthusiasm when the young doctor requested his permission to describe his mother’s appendectomy for the class.  Hermione was quite certain that all of the desks in her room had shifted forward several inches by that point in the doctor’s presentation. 

 

His presentation was finished just as the bell rang signaling the end of the period.  Several of Hermione’s students shook his hand and thanked him for the lesson as they exited the classroom to head to their physical education class, leaving Hermione alone with the doctor in her classroom.

 

……….

 

With a cautious eye, Draco Lucius Malfoy watched as the pretty teacher approached him.  When she contacted him several weeks ago to speak to her class about his job for something called “Career Week”, he hesitantly accepted though he tended to keep to himself these days.  He was especially hesitant to explain modern medicine to a group of preteens, but he seemed to hold the group’s attention with little effort and a few well-placed bits of humor. 

 

Several times throughout his lecture, he snuck glances at the teacher who was equally as enraptured in his presentation as her students.  She looked to be in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties and was quite a lovely creature to behold.

 

Draco had thoroughly immersed himself into the muggle world, though it had taken years for him to feel truly comfortable living (mostly) without magic.  Following the end of the war which had ripped the wizarding world in two, Draco made the decision to permanently leave the world which he knew would never let him live down the decisions he had made and actions he had taken while under the influence of a madman.  It would have been very, very difficult, if not impossible, to ever redeem the name of Malfoy.  While Draco hadn’t abandoned magic completely, he lived the majority of his days without its use.  When he was too tired to function following an eighteen-hour shift at the surgery was primarily when he indulged himself and used his magic – mostly for the purposes of feeding himself.

 

Draco found an easy solitude in living his life as Drake Moore who happened to be a well-respected, upstanding member of muggle society due to his position as a doctor.  Draco Malfoy, however, was a social pariah from a family known throughout the wizarding world for their allegiance to the Dark Lord during the second great wizarding war.

 

When he made the decision to leave the wizarding world for good, Draco felt he had no choice but to alter his appearance.  He didn’t want to be recognized – he wanted complete anonymity.  Polyjuice would take too much work and was not sustainable long term, so Draco settled for using charms to alter his appearance. After all, how many muggles had silvery-blonde hair and gray eyes? After trying several difference appearance charms, Draco settled on light-brown hair and blue eyes.  Though his face still held the angular quality present in his familial line, without his characteristic sneers and smirks, he very nearly looked like a completely different person.

 

His blue eyes settled on the young teacher who was suddenly at his side, rather than across the room and a mild sense of intoxication settled over him at the smell of her perfume.  Though she clasped her hands in front of her, she seemed to want to bounce out of her own skin and pepper him with questions about the lecture he had given to her class.  Her voice was smooth and lilting when she spoke.

 

 “Thank you again, Dr. Moore.  The students were so excited to hear you speak today, especially after what you did for one of their own.” 

 

“It was a refreshing change of pace from spending the days in surgery, Ms. Garrett.”  Draco said as he crossed his arms in a nonchalant way and leaned against the clean whiteboard.

 

“Maya, please.”  She said, her eyes sparkling with something Draco couldn’t quite identify. Merlin’s beard, her smile was lovely.

 

 “Drake.”  He said with a gesture to himself. “I hope I wasn’t too technical for them.  I realized after the fact that I used a great deal of medical jargon without really meaning to.”

 

Draco watched as her dark brown eyes seemed to come alive with her intelligence at the prospect of an intellectual conversation.

 

“Our curriculum is fairly robust and I think most of our students were able to keep up.  Sean was especially interested in your account of his mother’s surgery.”  She said with a glance towards the sandy-haired boy’s desk.

 

With a solemn nod, Draco explained that had the preteen hesitated to call the paramedics, circumstances may have been very different for his family.  The boy’s quick thinking very likely saved his mother’s life and spared him a great deal of heartache.

 

Feeling his cell phone buzz in his pocket, Draco inwardly groaned at the prospect of cutting their conversation short.  He glanced at the text message and frowned, making his apologies.  “It appears that I am needed back at the hospital.  Would it be possible to continue this conversation another time?  Perhaps over coffee?” He asked hopefully. 

 

The slight flush that rose to the apples of the young teacher’s cheeks was not missed.  “Sure,” she said, “I would like that very much.” 

 

A warmth rose to Draco’s chest at her acceptance but he kept his features schooled in order to not look too eager.  It had been quite a while since he had been on a date with a woman and the woman standing before him now had certainly sparked his interest.  She seemed at least moderately intelligent and was more than pleasing to the eye.  He suspected if he took the time to get to know her, they may share some common interests.

 

She crossed to her desk and retrieved her own cell phone.  “When are you free?”  She asked as she navigated to the calendar app.  “I suspect your schedule is much busier than mine.” 

 

Draco suppressed the nervous tickle at his core as he checked the calendar on his phone, his lips pursed in concentration as he viewed the multitudes of appointments, meetings, and consultations that were spread throughout the week.  The only problem with his chosen profession was that it kept his schedule extremely full.  He finally found an open space and silently prayed that her schedule was open for that day as well. 

 

“I have some time available on Thursday evening.” 

 

“Thursday works for me.”  She said, logging the appointment in her phone.  “There’s a lovely coffee shop down the street.”  She stated, the rose-colored flush just starting to disappear from her cheeks.  Though he kept his eyes squarely on her own, his brain couldn’t help but wondered what the rest of her would look like with that same pretty blush.

 

“I’ve stopped in there from time to time.  Is 5:30 okay?” He asked, setting the appointment in his phone. 

 

“Perfect.” She affirmed with a warm smile.  The fact that her emotions seemed quite easy to read was refreshing to Draco.  He was certain were she a witch she would be a Hufflepuff or perhaps a Gryffindor.  His eyes wandered briefly to her lips, though she didn’t notice as her focus was still on her phone.  If all went according to the plan forming in Draco’s mind, he would get to feel just how soft they were rather than merely hypothesizing.

 

With a polite incline of his head, Draco tucked his phone back into his pocket and flashed the muggle teacher his most dashing smile.  “Until then, Maya.” 

 

She muttered a goodbye and he was pleased to note the pretty blush had returned to her cheeks as he swept out of her classroom.  As he made his way through the school building and towards his car, he tried to place who exactly the teacher reminded him of.  Perhaps it would come to him over the next few days – he was certain he wouldn’t be able to get her out of his head.

……….

 

 

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived (and Died and Lived Again) and head Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement following the recent retirement of Gawain Robards, paced tirelessly around his office.  He roughly ran his fingers through his already messy black hair as he growled in frustration.  He _hated_ this day.  Harry kicked out at the empty air as he paced and released another growl. 

 

Today was the day and his best friend had completely and utterly walked out of his life and never looked back, though he didn’t know it at the time.  She never gave any hint to where she was going – she just left.  She left the wizarding world.  She left her friends.  She left those she considered friends.  She simply vanished.

 

Ten years ago, his best friend, Hermione Granger, made the decision to resign her position as an aide to the Minister of Magic, pack of her entire flat, and run away from all of her troubles.  It wouldn’t have been the first time Hermione had taken an extended leave to escape from the media circus who hounded them relentlessly, but she had always managed to return after several weeks with a tan, a smile, and renewed sense of duty to the world around her. 

 

Harry had merely brushed off the fact that she had packed up her flat and had spoken to him with a dangerously serious tone as though this time were the same as the others.

 

_With tears welling up in her eyes, Hermione faced him, her arms crossed protectively over her chest.  “I’m done, Harry.  I just can’t do it anymore.”_

 

_Harry settled himself on the arm of the sofa and looked up at the witch.  “What do you mean you can’t ‘do it anymore’, Hermione?  You’re not making sense.”  It wouldn’t have been the first time any of them had caved under pressure, but wanting to give up?  No.  That was ludicrous._

_She gestured wildly as though they were surrounded.  “Everything.  The publicity. The cameras.  The prying reporters.  All of the astronomical expectations we’re held to as the Saviors of the Wizarding World,” she added with a sneer.  “I’m tired Harry.  I’m in my early twenties and I’m so tired because it feels like the war never ended for us.  I don’t want to be the “brightest witch of the age”, “war heroine” or any of the other titles the world has thought to bestow upon me.”_

_A single tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away with a finger.  Her voice was shaking by this point and her cheeks were an unflattering, uneven red color.  “I just can’t do it anymore.  If I stay, I’ll go crazy.”_

 

_Harry rose from his place on the sofa and placed his arms around the distraught witch.  “You can’t avoid who you are, ‘Mione.”  He said, knowing exactly how she felt.  After the war, the media circus had latched on to the three of them.  Ron rather enjoyed being in the spotlight while he had taken it all in stride.  Hermione, on the other hand, had loathed it with an unrivaled passion.  Her distaste for finding her picture in the paper had only seemed to ignite the media’s obsession with the brilliant witch._

_“Watch me.”  She challenged through clenched teeth with a renewed spark of determination in her brown eyes._

_With a resigned sigh, Harry ran his hands up and down the sides of Hermione’s arms.  “Just take a week and rest.  You have been working rather hard lately – doing both your job and half of Shacklebolts.”_

_She backed up out of his embrace and crossed her arms over her chest once more.  “Taking a week off won’t fix anything, Harry.  I’ve tendered my resignation and I intend to leave before the sun sets”_

_Harry suddenly felt exasperated and he started gesticulating wildly.  How on earth could this incredible, talented, brilliant witch just abandon a job that she loved?  “You’re next in line to be the Minister of Magic when Shacklebolt retires. You love your job.  This has always been your dream, ‘Mione.  You can’t give that all up.” He was almost pleading with her by this point._

 

_“It’s not worth it.”_

 

Each word was articulated and punctuated with a finality that Harry wished he had recognized at the time.  After those four fateful words, she walked out of his office with her entire life packed up in that ugly beaded bag and simply vanished.  He knew she would come back.  She always came back. 

 

How wrong he had been.  She had been gone for ten _bloody_ years without so much as an owl, a letter by muggle post, or a telephone call to let them know she was alive or even safe.

 

Today was the last day he had spoken to his best friend.  It was the last day he had looked into her pretty brown eyes.  It was the last day he had hugged her.  It was also the last day where he hadn’t been there for her – and that stung the most. 

 

A slender witch with silky black hair cropped above her shoulders perched in the doorframe of Harry’s office.  A disappointed scowl marred her normally comely features and looked out of place given the redness of her lips.  She held a paper cup of steaming coffee in her delicate and perfectly manicured hand as she watched him pace back and forth within the confines of his office.

 

“You’re going to wear a hole in the carpets, Potter.” She chided, taking a sip of her coffee, her eyes following his pacing form.

 

Harry stopped briefly in his pacing to scowl at the witch.  “You know exactly what day it is, Parkinson, and here you are worrying about the carpets.”  He hissed, the words fighting to move past his clenched teeth as he balled his hands into fists.

“I had to ward the liquor cabinet this morning to ensure my fiancée stayed sober today.  Though it won’t prevent him from heading to a bar to finish the deed.”  Pansy sighed, taking a step into Harry’s office one hand still clutching her coffee as though it were her lifeline.  “Ronald taking it just as poorly as you, Potter, though I’m not sure who is in rougher shape – my future husband or you.” 

 

Her tone grew more gentle as she took another step towards the pacing wizard.  “Go home to your wife, Harry.”  She pleaded with a warm, caring look on her face.  “You won’t be of any use to any one today.  Ortiz and I can hand fill in for you while you take care of yourself.  We all know what today is.” 

 

Harry stopped pacing and gave her a nod, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose after the fact. 

 

Pansy took another step closer to Harry and wrapped her arms around him in a friendly embrace.  “Ron and I will be over later today.  You know Ginny and I won’t let the two of you face this day alone.”

 

With a sigh, Harry pulled his arms around Pansy and rested his chin atop her head.  “You’re right, P.  I should go.”

 

“Ortiz and I can manage.”  Pansy said with a bit of a mischievous smile as she step back from the friendly and completely platonic embrace.  “Now, off you pop.” She said, shooing him towards the floo.

 

With a nod, Harry quickly gathered what he needed from his desk and stepped towards the floo.  “I’ll see you tonight, Parkinson.” 

 

“See you, Potter.”

 

……….

 

­­­­

As Hermione stepped into the small coffee shop just down the street from her school, she allowed the sweet, intoxicating scent of freshly brewed coffee to fill her nose as she brushed a few flakes of snow from her coat.  Hanging her coat on a rack near the door, Hermione sauntered up to the counter and ordered an iced coffee with an extra shot.  She spent a moment viewing the offerings in the pastry case but ultimately decided against one of the delectable treats. After paying for her coffee, she took a seat in a cozy wingback chair near the window, opening the book she had brought with her just in case the doctor didn’t show.  It certainly wouldn’t be the first (or probably last) time she was ever stood up for a date. 

 

As she attempted to read she toyed with the straw in her cup, absently.  She was certain she had read the same sentence six times when the door to the coffee shop opened and she saw the handsome doctor striding in with confidence from over the top of her book.  He caught her eye and nodded in recognition before hanging his own heavy, woolen coat on the rack and ordering his own drink at the bar.  He couldn’t see the giddy smile plastered on her lips from behind her book and she managed to school her features into something more feminine and sophisticated by the time he took a seat in the chair next to hers. 

 

She could hear the own nervous tremor in her voice when she spoke, but secretly hoped he didn’t think anything was amiss.  “It’s lovely to see you again.” 

 

“Likewise.”  He affirmed before taking a sip of steaming, black coffee.  “How have you been?”

 

Hermione was mildly distracted by his beverage choice.  While her parents had schooled her on the importance of dental hygiene, there was absolutely no way she could drink the normally bitter beverage without copious amounts of cream and sugar.

 

He was looking at her expectantly when she finally responded.  “Quite well, though as we move into the spring term everything begins to pick up and life will get a bit busier for me.”  Parent conferences were scheduled to happen in two weeks and before she knew it, the mandated testing the students were subjected to would be upon her before she could say Qudditch. 

 

He nodded as though he understood and appeared to be genuinely interested in her profession when he asked, “What made you decide to become a teacher?”

 

“Learning is one of my many passions.”  She explained, feeling the excitement bubble up at getting to speak so openly about her profession.  “I was what most would call a ‘bookworm’ when I was in school.  Always in the library, taking extra classes, chiding friends about their own assignments.  You know, generally trying to be the best at all of my… academic pursuits.”  She let of out soft chuckle, knowing that if she even attempted to explain away what her education truly encompassed he would think she’d gone ‘round the bend. 

 

“I ultimately decided I wanted to give back to the community by teaching the next generation.” She said as she fondly thought of her students. 

 

“I knew someone just like that in school.”  He laughed in a very easy going way that made Hermione’s heart skip a beat as he leaned back into his chair. “I loathed her for her determination and innate talent for learning everything so quickly.  She was always one step ahead of me.”  He shook his head.  “It was so frustrating!”

 

With his admission, Hermione’s mind automatically drifted to her own school yard nemesis, Draco Malfoy, the poncy, irritating git.  She could be proud of herself that she’d bested him in just about every subject but potions.  She pushed the thoughts of the former Death Eater from her mind to focus on the man sitting before her who was nothing like the boy she’d hated from ten years ago. 

 

With a change of subject, Hermione decided to echo his question to her before taking a sip of her coffee.  “What made you decide to go into medicine?”

 

He tapped his toe against the tile floor and ran his fingers through his slightly mussed brown hair.  “I stumbled into it, really.” 

 

_How on earth does one just stumble into the field of medicine?  Most people know they want to take that path long before they get to university._

“When I attended university, I didn’t have a clear vision of exactly what I wanted to do.  I took a few classes in law and chemistry before eventually I took my first pre-med class.  From that moment on, I never really looked back.  I came out of university several years later with a degree in medicine and starting my residency.”  He shrugged with a humble smile as he knocked back the last of his black coffee as though he were taking a shot of the finest firewhiskey.

 

 

 

“I’ll bet there’s an interesting story in there somewhere.” She laughed, shifting her her seat so she was leaning towards him slightly.  It was refreshing to feel so at ease with someone and his easy going manner reminded her of friends she hadn’t spoken to in years.

 

“Of course.  But what happens in med school, stays there.” He intoned with a cheeky wink.

 

“I’ll bet that’s the reason for the black coffee.”  She grinned, with a gesture to his mug before shaking her own iced coffee slightly to move the ice and mix the cream with the coffee more.  “I can’t stand the stuff.”

 

“Tea never quite did the trick like black coffee.  Plus, it’s readily available in the lounge and there’s little time for cream and sugar when you’re rushing from patient to patient.”

 

She nodded.  “I can’t even imagine.  What’s it like?” She asked, leaning her arm against the nearby table and resting her head in her hand. 

 

“I couldn’t imagine doing anything else, at this point.  It’s exhilarating and exhausting, but I’m happy for once in my life.  It’s a great feeling to do something you love day in and day out.” 

 

The way he said _once in my life_ made Hermione pause for a moment.  Was he unhappy before now?  What made him unhappy?  That obviously wasn’t conversation for a first pre-date for coffee, but she filed it away in the back of her mind to perhaps ask him later.  Still, she could empathize.  She had been absolutely miserable in her ministry job once her initial elation at the position wore off.  The ever-present media circus certainly didn’t help things either.

 

“I know what you mean.  I was a… government employee before I got into teaching.  Those students are my world.”  She supposed government employee was technically the correct term.  It just wasn’t the government of the muggle world.

 

Drake looked down into his empty cup.  “I’m going to grab another.  Do you want anything?” 

 

_I’d like to get lost in those blue eyes of yours…_

 

She glanced down at her half full iced coffee.  “Oh, no thank you.”   He nodded and stepped up to the counter to order himself another black coffee.  Hermione found her eyes gazing longingly at him as he walked away before she could stop herself.  She could just make out the ripple of his back muscles under the sensible dark blue oxford he wore, not to mention the sway of his hips in those muggle jeans.  

 

How long had it been since Hermione had dated anyone?  She had a fling with Viktor Krum several years ago that ended up all over the Prophet and other wizarding publications.  After that another brief interlude with Ron before they realized they were completely ill suited.  Anthony Goldstein creeped on her when she’d worked at the ministry but that had never gone any further than awkward glances in the corridors and her avoiding the area near his cubicle.  She had been on a few dates with muggle boys in the years since she had relinquished all claims to the wizarding world. As she added up the numbers in her head, she realized it had honestly been several years since she had been on a proper date. 

 

Was that even what this was? Coffee with a friend?  A pre-date? An actual date?  A cute doctor had asked her to coffee.  No matter what it was in his mind, she was calling it a date. 

 

……….

 

 

 _Granger_.  Maya reminded him in a subtle way of Hermione Granger, the swot to end all swots.  Maya was an intellectual sure, but she didn’t seem to show it off in the same way Granger was so blatant about.  With her brown-on-brown hair and eyes, she slightly resembled the Princess of Gryffindor. 

 

It was getting harder and harder to call up the faces that matched the names from his Hogwarts days but that was one witch he would never forget.  He had certainly taunted her enough about them that her buck teeth and mass of bushy curls were forever burned into his retinas.

 

No.  While Maya reminded him _slightly_ of Granger, she couldn’t possibly share anything in common with the witch of his childhood.  Draco assumed that many teachers shared a passion for being a life-long learner and he found that passion refreshing.  It was an admirable profession to want to shape the next generation.

 

After thanking the barista for his coffee and dropping a generous tip in the jar on the counter, he sauntered back to the window where Maya was waiting for him.  She looked lovely with the sunlight highlighting her features and Draco felt his breath catch in his throat before he forced an exhale. 

 

Draco slid a fruit tarte topped with cream across the table to the teacher before setting a fork down nearby.  “Have you had them before?”  He asked her, smiling at the surprised expression on her face.

 

“This looks amazing and thank you.”  She said sincerely.  “I usually just grab a coffee and maybe a muffin in the mornings on my way to the school.  I’m rarely here in the evenings for decadent offerings such as fruit tarts, though I will admit to perusing the case before you arrived.”  Maya replied with a genuine smile and an almost playful glint to her eyes.

 

 

“Honestly, neither have I, but they looked too delicious to pass up.” Picking up his fork and taking a bite of his tart led to the escape of a contented sigh from his lips and at exactly the same moment as his companion.  Decadent was clearly the right word to use to describe the sensation accompanying the flavors of the dessert he had chosen.

 

“What do you do in your free time?” Maya asked, popping another bite of the fruit tart into her mouth as delicately as possible.  The etiquette lessons her mother had subjected her to when she was a child popped into the forefront of her mind.

 

“Free time?  What is this free time you speak of?” He teased.  Surely his companion must know that doctors have very little free time.

 

“Oh, you know, the moments between all of your life save endeavors.” She quipped with a cheeky, but charming smile.  He was quickly finding himself enamored with her quick wit and intellect and he’d barely spent an hour with the woman.

 

“Catch up on sleep.” He replied with a wink.  “If I do happen to have more than a few hours between shifts, I might play a round of golf, read a novel, or play video games.”  He’d picked up golf in lieu of Quidditch pretty early on in his transition into the muggle world.  It was a poor replacement for his favorite sport, which had been intensely difficult to give up following his departure from the wizarding world.  He could barely recall the last time he’d felt the sun on his face and the wind in his hair as he rode a broom.  There was nothing quite like the sensation and it was honestly one of the things he missed the most.

 

“I read, mostly.  I also bake and pick up random hobbies like the time where I decided to learn Turkish on a whim.”  She offered with a small laugh.

 

“Turkish?  Why Turkish?  That seems much less practical than many other languages which are currently in demand.”  He arched an eyebrow.  What an odd thing to decide to learn on a whim yet he couldn’t help but find it utterly charming.  

 

Maya turned an amusing shade of crimson and launched into a detailed account of finding a Turkish soap opera one day on an obscure television channel and falling in love with the musicality and structure of the language.  She described the basic structure of the language and Draco had to stop himself from fawning over the way adorable way this muggle woman explained the agglutinative nature of a language he’d honestly never heard. There was something thoroughly enchanting about the way she offered explanations in a carefree and easy manner.

 

 “Say something in Turkish then.” He challenged, knowing he would have absolutely no way of knowing what she was saying. Did Lucius have an associate who spoke Turkish?  No, Draco reminded himself, that particular associate spoke Hungarian. 

 

“Merhaba. Benim adım Maya Garrett. Tanıştığımıza çok memnun oldum.” She replied, holding her hand out to shake his, attempting to hold a serious expression on her face to which she was barely successful  “Hello.  My name is Maya Garrett.  It’s very nice to meet you.”  She smiled as she interpreted the words into English, her hand clasping his in a firm handshake.  He liked it when their hands touched.  Was there anything about this girl he didn’t like? He had only been in her presence for maybe an hour total and he already thought she was enchanting.  It almost made him feel sixteen again.

 

“Likewise,” Draco replied with a smirk, shaking her hand and finding himself keenly aware of the way her hand fit perfectly in his.

 

As he released her hand, he was never more certain that he wanted to see her again, and soon.  Now seemed like as good of a time as any to ask her, before the time came for them to part. “Maya, would you like to have dinner with me, next week?”

 

“I would love to, Drake.”  There was that flush on her cheeks again that he found so endearing. 

 

……….

 

The teacups rattled, the porcelain threatening to chip under the vibrations as Ronald Weasley slammed a copy of The Times down on the table.  The unexpected action merely caused his fiancée to arch her eyebrow whilst his sister practically jumped out of her chair upon the sudden impact.  Harry Potter, Merlin love him, didn’t move a muscle as he trained his eyes on the tiny non-moving picture surrounded by a short article entitled _Educating the Economically Disadvantaged_.

 

It was _her_.  Though there was no color to the photograph, her eyes reflected happiness at being surrounded by a group of students who appeared to be just on the cusp of becoming adolescents.  She was dressed in muggle clothing as she pointed towards something written on the board and her hair no longer fell in gentle ringlets down her back, but that didn’t alter the fact that it was _her_.  A perfect photograph of Hermione Jane Granger who had been missing for the last ten years was emblazoned in black and white on the page of the newspaper.

 

“Fuck!” Ron threw his hands in the air as he cursed, the volume bordering on a shout.  He emphatically gestured to the photograph, pointing at the witch.  “She’s right _fucking_ there.” 

 

In a display of frustration, Ron released a groan, dragging his fingers through his ginger hair and down his face.  “Has she been in London this _whole bloody time_?”

 

For once, Pansy was left speechless though her ruby red lips had curled into a smirk.  The thought that Gryffindor’s Princess had been hiding under their noses in Muggle London for the past ten years was truly astounding.  If Granger could hide in Muggle London, why not Draco?  He’d been missing for at least as long.  _No_. Pansy told herself.  Draco loathed muggles and probably wouldn’t be able to survive on his own for more than a week without magic. 

 

Snatching the paper from her husband, Ginny Potter skimmed over the tiny print of the article, desperately searching for the name of the woman in the photograph. “They didn’t mention her by name, but perhaps we can trace the photograph by contacting whoever wrote the article.”

 

“That’s not a bad idea, Gin.” Pansy said, her eyes following her fiancée as he paced around the dining table wringing his hands and looking like he was about to have an anxiety attack. 

 

“Ronald.”  The use of his first name got his attention and he stopped pacing momentarily.  “Sit down.” She commanded, gently to which he immediately complied, taking a seat next to Ginny.  Pansy rested her palm flat against his back in another bid to calm him down.  Though he was silent, his eyes were transfixed on the tiny photograph of his best friend. 

 

It was clear to anyone who had been around Pany and Ron for any amount of time that Pansy was the dominant party in their relationship.  Ron complied without thinking, taking a seat next to Ginny, snatching the newspaper from her.  He remained silent, his eyes fixed on the tiny photograph.

 

Though he rested his head in his hands, his instincts as an Auror took over and his emotions were suppressed for the moment.  “Ginny’s suggestion is the best one we have.  Pansy, can you make the call?”

 

“First thing tomorrow morning, boss.”  She affirmed, rubbing soothing circles over Ron’s back.

 

“Thank you.  Muggle London is too big for us to investigate without narrowing down our search area.”  He said before allowing himself to look at the photograph again.  He silently memorized the features of the woman in the picture.  Her hair was shorter and straight but her eyes and smile were the same.  Hermione still managed to shine with that brilliant intelligence that so defined her.

 

Were they really so close to finding her after ten years?

 


	2. Chapter 2

Winter slowly faded into spring.  The snow melted, leaves were appearing on trees, and the tiny wildflower buds dotting the landscape began to open, revealing a multitude of colors.  Unfortunately, with the spring came the rain forcing Hermione to carry an umbrella with her daily, never knowing when a sporadic rainstorm might hit.  Luckily, today did not appear to be one of those days.  The sun was rising over a clear horizon though it was dotted with a few clouds here and there, but the whiteness of the fluffy clouds did nothing to suggest an impending rainstorm.

 

As she walked down the street towards the coffee shop where she met Drake in the mornings before they both had to head into work, Hermione caught sight of the silhouettes of three exceedingly familiar people in the distance.  A tall man with tousled, unruly black hair was holding the hand of a slender woman with long strawberry colored tresses, and a muscular man with the same flaming red her walked on the other side of the woman.  Hermione’s breath caught in her throat in recognition as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

 

_What were they doing in muggle London at this time of day?  What were they doing in muggle London at all?_

Hermione took a quick detour down a side street and ducked into the covered stoop of a small bookshop as she felt the panic begin to rise in her throat. 

 

 _Were they looking for her?  Was this merely a coincidence?_   The questions continued to race through her mind.

 

It wasn’t open yet, but she hoped it would hide her well enough until she could continue her way towards the coffee shop.  She held her breath and closed her eyes wishing she had her wand with her to cast a disillusionment charm and at that moment made the firm decision to start carrying it with her again.  It typically remained in a wooden case at her home, tucked into the drawer of her desk.  She had little need of it most days.

 

The clack of their steps on the dewy pavement rang out in the stillness of the morning as they neared the place where she was hidden.  With a silent prayer to any diety who might be listening, she held her breath and asked the universe that she not be spotted.  While it was true she hadn’t seen then in ten years, as though she loved them dearly, she wasn’t ready for what reuniting with them would mean. 

 

Hermione heard Ginny’s clear mezzo voice carry down the side street as they passed. “- said the photograph was taken at the school just up the road a little over a year ago.” 

 

“Do you think she might still be there?” questioned Ron, in his smooth baritone. 

 

She then heard the tenor of Harry’s voice as they continued down the street.  “I feel like I should have taken some _Felix Felicis_ before we left today.”

 

“I know what you mean, mate,” said Ron, as Hermione strained to hear his voice.

 

Ginny’s voice barely carried on back to Hermione on the gentle morning breeze. “It’s a lead, in any case.”

 

Hermione released a string of expletives in her mind, though her lip smouthed the words. Whipping out her mobile phone, Hermione quickly sent a text message to the school secretary, knowing the woman often arrived earlier than almost everyone.

 

_If anyone comes in asking about me._

_Please, for the love of God, don’t tell them that I work there._

_I’ll explain later._

Peeking her head out from around the corner, she watched the three silhouetted figures continue on their way towards the school.  With a sign of relief at having not been spotted, she turned and walked promptly in the opposite direction when her phone buzzed in her hand.

 

_Sounds like a juicy story!  You owe me one! ;)_

“Oh, thank Merlin.”  She whispered in relief as she pushed the door to the coffee shop open.  She quickly spotted her handsome doctor from across the shop.  Drake was nursing what Hermione assumed to be a cup of black coffee at their usual table near the window and she quickly closed the gap between them, practically thrusting herself into his arms in relief.

 

“Hey you.  I was starting to get worried.” As he kissed the top of her head, she felt the smile that crossed his lips as he attempted to be subtle while inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

 

It was no surprise that Drake was worried about her, she was fifteen minutes late and was nothing if not predictable.  With the intention to sit down, he pulled back from her but she kept her arms wrapped tightly around him and breathed in the soothing scent of his cologne as she rested her head against his chest.

 

His smooth, velvety voice crooned next to her ear.  “What’s wrong, love”

 

“Just a rough morning,” she said, attempting to play down how upset she was at her almost encounter from earlier in the morning.  She forced a smile and looked up into his blue eyes, just catching the shimmer of silver in the endless pools.  He brushed his lips against her forehead, apparently convinced.

 

“If I can help, let me know.”

 

Hermione nodded, pulling back from the brace and taking her seat at their usual table.  Being the gentleman he was, Drake passed her the iced coffee he had ordered for her before she arrived.  As she sipped the sweetened ambrosia, she let the memory from this mornings near-encounter drift out of her mind. 

 

“What’s your schedule like today? She asked as Drake settled back down into his own chair, taking a sip from his customary cup of straight, black coffee.  Given how late she was, he was probably on his second or third cup.

 

“I’ve three scheduled procedures this morning and then I’m on rounds.  I’m on call today for surgery should anyone come in.  Reynolds took the day off to celebrate his anniversary with Melinda.  I think he said his sister was keeping the kids.”

 

“Sounds like a fairly calm day.  Give my best to Reynolds when you see him again.” She smiled, thinking fondly on the older surgeon she had met a few weeks prior at a work function.

 

“It could always be worse.” He chuckled, minimizing how busy his day was likely to be.  “Regardless, I should be finished well before dinner tonight.”

 

Though she wasn’t annoyed, Hermione hated surprises and thusfar, Drake had not divulged his plans for their date.  “I wish you would tell me exactly _where_ we are going.”  All she knew was that she was required to dress casually for some sort of dinner.  The lack of details were incredibly frustrating.

 

Hermione pursed her lips in mock annoyance. “I wish you would tell me where we’re going.” Earlier in the week, he told her he was taking her to dinner on Friday, to wear something casual, and refused to give her any more details.

 

Drake captured her hand in his and pressed his lips against her wrist.  “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, Maya.”  He said with a mischievous twist to his lips.

 

Hermione huffed petulantly in an exaggerated manner which elicited a low chuckle from the surgeon.  She was nearly certain the man would have been sorted into Slytherin had been born into the wizarding world.  The thought of breaking the International Statute of Secrecy briefly crossed her mind, but she pushed it out of her mind just as fast as it appeared.  It was entirely too soon for that type of thinking.

 

He grinned mischievously. “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, Maya.” Hermione huffed playfully as though she were injured by the comment.  Drake would certainly have been sorted into Slytherin were he not a muggle. She briefly pondered if they would ever get to the point where she would need to break the International Statute of Secrecy but she still felt it too early in their relationship to tell.

 

“We’d both better get going or we will be late,” Drake said with a glance down to his wristwatch.

 

Hermione nodded, as the two of them stood up from the table. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry I was late today.”

 

Drake pulled her into his arms.  As he cradled her against his chest, he rested his forehead against hers and lightly nuzzled her nose with his own in a display of affection that nearly made Hermione swoon.

 

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, love. I’ll pick you up from your flat at 6:00 sharp.” He placed a tender kiss upon her lips, lingering for just a moment longer than normal. 

 

“At six.” She smiled, all of her worries from earlier in the day washed away.

 

……….

 

Harry Potter tentatively pushed the small intercom button outside of the doors to the school.  Fully expecting to hear a voice after the button was pushed, he was slightly taken aback when he heard the doors unlock without so much as a “come through”.  He looked at his companions and opened the door, stepping through into a foyer covered in gray tile, burnished bricks and furniture that appeared to be at least twenty years old. 

 

He stepped towards a middle-aged woman sitting behind a tidy desk who looked at him with mild disdain. 

 

“Excuse me.” He said, politely, presenting the newspaper clipping. “Is this the school where this picture was taken?”

 

The woman behind the desk pursed her lips and took the newspaper clipping, eyeing it carefully.  “Yes.  That appears to be one of our classrooms, though there is no way to be completely certain.”  She stared at the trio expectantly.

 

Ron let out the breath he was holding and stepped forward from behind Harry.  “Then it looks like we are likely in the right place. Can you please tell us the name of the woman in the picture?”

 

“I apologize, but I cannot identify her.”  She replied curtly giving them entirely no indication as to whether or not she knew the woman in the photograph as she set the clipping down onto her desk. 

 

Ginny started to ask a question when a student with shaggy blonde hair came rushing in through the doors and came up to the woman’s desk, weaseling his way in front of the three adults in a shocking display of poor manners.  He was out of breath and appeared to have been running.

 

“So sorry, Mrs. Williams.  I overslept.”  He managed to say between ragged breaths, leaning on the desk for support.

 

The middle-aged woman raised an eyebrow and started to scribble a tardy slip for him, completely ignoring the three adults in front of her.  “This is the third time this week, Mr. Whitacre.” She chided, handing him the tardy slip with a stern glare.

 

“I know, I know, Mrs. Williams.  Mom got a new job and we’re off our routine.” He paused, picking up the newspaper clipping on her desk.  “Whoa!  Ms. G. was in the paper?  Wicked.” His eyes narrowed as he examined the picture further.  “Hey!  There’s Edward and Malcom.”  He said, pointing to two students who were gathered around the teacher in question.

 

Harry, Ron, and Ginny whipped their heads around towards the young man, staring intently at him.  While the woman behind the desk had been less than helpful, this child had validated that Hermione had worked at this school. The woman behind the desk closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, and pulled in a deep breath as though she were trying to suppress her annoyance at the young man.  “You get to class right now, Sean Whitacre or I will see you today for a lunch detention.” 

 

Yes, ma’am!”  Sean set the picture back down on the desk, clutching his tardy slip in his hand as he moved through the set of double doors behind her desk. 

 

As he ran down the hallway, Harry heard the young man say something that sounded very much like “Ms. Garrett” and “newspaper” in a string of otherwise uninterpretable jargon.

 

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and leaned forward, narrowing her eyes threateningly.  “I thought you said you didn’t know who she was.”

 

The middle-aged woman straightened her back, refusing to be intimidated by the three adults standing in front of her.  “I merely said I could not identify her.  School policy.”

 

“But she works here?” Ron questioned, his voice almost pleading.

 

“I am not allowed to divulge that information.” She replied curtly. “It is clear you do not have a student who attends this school and as you are not with our local law enforcement agency.  I must ask you to leave.”

 

Harry nodded and turned towards the door, not wanting to make trouble.  There were other magical ways to get the information they needed, but it seemed that a simple stake-out would do the trick if Hermione did truly work at the school.  He was fairly certain that if she did not, the woman would have told them.  The blond student who rushed in after them clearly recognized the woman in the picture which strengthened his belief that it was very possible he would see his missing best friend very soon. 

 

The trio crossed the lawn, gathering beneath a large oak tree and standing largely out of sight.  Harry crossed his arms and leaned back against the trunk of the expansive tree. 

 

“I think it’s best if we stick around for the day and keep out of sight.  I’ll stay here, near the front.  Ginny, you take the park area and Ron, you take the lot we passed on the way down the street.  Don’t approach her if you see her, just send a Patronus with a message and we’ll reconvene.  If she gets any idea that we’ve found her, she might freak out and then we’ll have to start all over again.”

 

“I think you’re right, Harry.”  Ginny said, “Hermione left for a reason, no matter how stupid we think that reason was. If we have any chance of even talking to her, we have to go about this the right way.”

 

Ron nodded in agreement.  “Pansy suggested much the same this morning before we left, assuming we spotted her.”  While Ron had spent a few years as an auror and strategist for several tough cases before leaving his potion to help out George at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes whereas Pansy, his fiancée, had quickly risen in the ranks of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement due to her analytical and precise nature.  Not to mention, she took absolutely no non-sense and was an excellent field agent.

 

Before they had even set off to their positions, they saw a slender brunette quickly cross the lawn and slip into the building through a side door. Even after ten years, Hermione still carried herself the exact same way, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that they had found her.

 

“Well.  I think that answers our question.  Stake-out be damned.”  Ron said, after the woman had retreated from their sight. “I’m famished.  We might as well go have breakfast and work out what to do now.”

 

……….

 

Hermione leaned back into the stream of hot water, breathing in the steam that had filled the bathroom.  She pulled her fingers, laced with shampoo, through her hair, massaging the scented liquid into her scalp.  Her mind processed through the events of the day, still reeling from her almost encounter with her former friends. When she had made the decision to leave the wizarding world she knew it was an “all or nothing” decision.  If she remained friends and maintained contact with anyone in the wizarding world, eventually she would be found and she would be back to square one and the reason she left in the first place.  She was too high profile of a person to live a quiet life, at least at that point.  It had become utterly ridiculous as well with the paparazzi following her around the way they did.  These past ten years away from it all had been blissful in their own, lonely sort of way. Unfortunately, the decision she made to leave the wizarding world also meant cutting out those she loved most. She had to get away and this was the only way she knew to escape it all.  

 

Hermione desperately missed her close connection with Harry.  He had been her best friend since the incident with the troll during her first year at Hogwarts and could read her better than anyone else. The time they spent alone during the great Horcrux Hunt had only increased the sisterly love she felt for Harry. Hermione found she also missed Ron’s easy-going nature, terrible jokes, and even his occasional bout of bumbling incompetence, though she didn’t miss him quite as much as she missed Harry.  She and Ginny had grown fairly close after she and Harry had married and those weekend spa trips and late-night confession sessions were never far from the back of her mind.

 

She had panicked when she had seen the trio of her former friends earlier in the day. Of course, the scenario of them showing up in muggle London had crossed her mind many times before, but she was utterly unprepared to see them that morning. 

 

As soon as she was out of Drake’s calming presence, it took several hours for her heart to stop pounding in her chest and she almost went home sick before the day was out.  If they were looking for her, she wouldn’t be able to avoid them forever unless she moved and she was certainly not prepared to do that.  Hermione had grown rather comfortable being Maya Garrett and didn’t quite want to give her up alias just yet.  Maya was just an ordinary teacher from an ordinary suburban household rather than the “brightest witch of her age” and a “war heroine” and Hermione was entirely grateful for the unassuming existence she was able to live.  Maya Garrett was also swiftly finding herself thoroughly enamored with the dashing muggle surgeon, Drake Moore. 

 

Hermione sighed contentedly to herself at the thought of Drake as she rinsed the soap from her body.  They had been dating for going on four months and he had thoroughly swept her off of her feet.  His manners were impeccable.  He treated her as though she were the post precious thing in the world to him.  He was incredibly kind, hard-working, and always seemed to look for the best in people.

 

Even the way he moved was elegant as though he had been raised under the tutelage of etiquette coaches from the time he could walk.  He was intensely intelligent and they had sparred intellectually on more topics than she could count. Even if they held the same viewpoint, they would adopt opposite views simply to debate.  It was the first relationship Hermione had been in where she felt like she was on equal footing with her partner.

 

He almost seemed to be too good to be true.

 

Begrudgingly, Hermione turned off the warm water and stepped out of the shower to get ready for their date. She towel-dried her hair and changed into a simple pair of jeans, a black tank top, and a light jacket.  She lined her eyes, lengthened her lashes with mascara, and use a simple lightly tinted gloss on her lips.  Glancing at her watch, she pulled on a pair of flats and stuffed her identification card, credit card, keys, and phone in her pocket. She checked her appearance in the mirror once more before hearing a knock at the door. 

 

“Hey you.” Drake smiled at her with his perfectly white teeth as she opened the door.  “You look lovely.”  He said, pulling her into an embrace, his arms snaking around her shoulders. 

 

Resting her head against his chest, she breathed a sigh of contentment and smiled up at her altogether too perfect boyfriend.  “Thank you.”

 

With his hand resting against the small of her back, Drake led Hermione to his car, opening the door for her.  She settled into the passenger seat and fastened her safety belt as he slid into the driver’s seat, doing the same. 

 

“You never told me where we’re going.  She reminded him as he turned the key in the ignition causing the car to roar to life.

 

“Obviously.”  He said, releasing a low chuckle.  “That’s why it’s called a surprise, Maya.”

 

They drove for several minutes, chatting about their respective days at work until they pulled up to a lush, grassy meadow with a stage set up some ways back towards a dense tree line.  On the stage, a small orchestra was gathered, tuning their instruments in a cacophony of sound.  

 

“Drake, where are we?” Hermione asked, removing her safety belt and stepping out of the car while Drake opened the trunk of the car removing several items.  When he came fully into her view, he was holding a picnic basket and a blanket.

 

“We’re going to spend the night listening to Mozart under the stars.”  He gestured towards the grounds in front of the stage where several other couples and families appeared to be sitting on blankets as the orchestra tuned their instruments.

 

She smiled at him with a dreamy expression.  “You remembered.”  Hermione had mentioned her love of classical music to him over a month ago as well as the concert in the park series which would be starting later in the spring.  With her busy school schedule, she had completely forgotten about the concert series, but it was clear Drake hadn’t forgotten.

 

He nodded, a gentle smile rising to his lips.  “I did.” 

 

They moved towards the meadow and chose a somewhat secluded spot off to the side.  When the blanket was spread out over the grass, Drake unpacked the basket, pulling out a bottle of wine, two glasses, and the makings of a charcuterie and cheese board.  They settled into the blanket, sitting next to one another with Hermione resting her head on Drake’s shoulder with his arm draped lightly around her.

 

……….

 

The music started just as the day faded into twilight, the stars beginning to emerge as the sky grew darker.  Draco rested his head lightly against Maya’s, caressing her arm with his fingertips.  He gently aerated the red wine in his glass with a flick of his wrist, sending the liquid swirling around the bell before savoring the liquid within. 

 

The evening was quickly slipping into the realm of perfection between the temperate weather and the charming woman at his side.  While he thoroughly enjoyed her company, he found himself thinking of the brunette more and more often outside of the confines of their dates.  They exchanged text messages throughout the day and often spoke on the phone at the end of the day, not to mention their shared coffees in the mornings at the coffee shop near Maya’s school. 

 

Though his mind should’ve been on the woman at his side, the melodies playing brought forth his memories of his own flight from the wizarding world. 

 

_The Chief Warlock rose from behind the great podium and looked down his nose at the wizard placed in the center of the courtroom.  “Draco Lucius Malfoy, please rise before the Wizengamot.”_

_Running his fingers down his tie, ensuring it was properly in order, Draco rose from his position.  His face belied nothing of the swirling panic in his abdomen as he kept his features carefully schooled into an air of calm indifference.  He forced himself to stare intently into the eyes of the Chief Warlock as the verdict was read._

_Breaking the seal on the envelope, the Chief Warlock glanced briefly over the missive before speaking directly to Draco._

_“You are hereby sentenced to one years’ probation in lieu of a sentence in Azkaban prison for the crimes committed against the wizarding world.”_

_Draco felt relief flood his body, but maintained his visage._

_“During this time, you may use magic only within the physical boundaries of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry should you choose to return to complete your education. As you well know from your father’s trial your family home has been seized and all artefacts contained therein will be sold in order to pay reparations to the wizarding community and fund the full rebuilding of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”_

_The Chief Warlock narrowed his eyes, watching the young man carefully.  “You owe a great debt to those who testified in your favor, Mr. Malfoy, as the contents of your personal vault have not been seized as well.  You may speak with Councilor Wimbourne on your way out for additional details regarding your probation.”_

 

_Draco nodded and stepped down from the raised area in the center of the chamber and swiftly exited the room without a single glance behind him.  It wasn’t until he was out from the scrutiny of the mob in the courtroom that he dared breathe or even crack a smile._

_The rules were simple.  Hogwarts or House Arrest for one year.  Present your wand every month for testing.  Report to the auror in charge of probation every two weeks.  And do your best to forget you ever joined the ranks of Lord Voldemort’s Death Eaters. If you follow these rules completely, the Ministry and presumably the rest of the wizarding world would let you live out your life in peace._

_Draco made the decision to return to Hogwarts to finish his seventh year, if only so he could take his N.E.W.T. examinations.  He kept to himself, laid low, and got through the year with only three black eyes, seventeen jinxes, one broken rib, five hexes, two curses, and too many insults thrown his way to count.   He managed to mostly avoid the hospital wing, thanks mostly to Pansy and her affinity for healing._

_The Malfoy’s were essentially done for in the political and social realms.  They were at the bottom of the totem pole, lower even than hags and ogres at this point.  No one wanted to associate with his family no matter what they did to try to make amends.  It simply didn’t matter how much of his personal funds he donated, how often he volunteered at St. Mungo’s, or how often he did good deeds._

_It was clear that no matter what he did, there wasn’t a chance of acceptance. He was turned away from apprenticeships for which he was highly qualified, common businesses, restaurants.  About the only place who never turned him away was St. Mungo’s and that was only when he needed treatment or was picking up a potion for his mother._

_It was an impossible way of living._

_It was Pansy who had first planted the idea in his head.  It was just after his moment in court when she said, “If I have to live without magic for a year, I might as well be a muggle.”_

_No one knew of the Malfoy’s in the muggle world and the thought that he could blend in and be completely without shame or scorn was incredibly tempting.  The only problem would be actually living without magic. Draco had never been without magic for a day in his life and had no idea how the muggle world functioned.  Muggle Studies was an optional class, after all._

_He had seen magic do so pretty terrible things during the war and a brief break from it didn’t seem like such a horrible idea. Draco could completely reinvent himself, into what though, he had no idea._

_The next week, he found himself converting his Galleons to Pounds, packing a few essentials in a suitcase, and turning his back on the wizarding world. He vanished without a trace, telling no one of his plans.  Not his mother or Pansy, his best friend. If he was going to make this work, he had one shot and that meant cutting off everyone and everything he ever knew._

_It was time to grow up and make his own self-discoveries without the influence of Lucius Malfoy and his pureblood ideologies. It was time to leave Draco Malfoy in the past, exactly where he belonged._

Looking back on the day he made his decision and how far he’d come, Draco could only conclude that leaving his past behind had been one of the best decisions he’d ever made.  He didn’t have to hide.  He could be exactly who he wanted to be and show the world the Draco Malfoy who was never able to be himself in the confines of a society that refused to forgive.

 

Meeting Maya was perhaps one of the biggest surprises he’d had on this incredible journey over the past ten or more years.  He could easily imagine a future with this woman who seemed to be on equal footing with him, the only exception being his ability to perform magic.

 

As he placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, she released a sound of sheer contentment as she pressed herself closer into his side. 

 

“Happy?” He questioned, nuzzling his nose into her hair and inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo.

 

Maya nodded, tilting her head to place a tender kiss along the line of his jaw.  “Exceptionally so.”

 

“Me too.” He said as hooked his fingertip under her chin, tilting her head so her eyes met his.  He gently stroked her cheek with his thumb before meeting her lips with his in a soft, sensual kiss.  They lingered there for a moment, simply content to be beneath the stars with one another as the gentle melodies were carried on the breeze. 

 

……….

 

Pansy lingered in the doorway, her arms crossed gingerly over her chest.  “You three can’t just ambush her in public.”  She said to the trio of former Gryffindors who were quietly discussing possible plans for contacting Hermione around the kitchen table.  They had been at Pansy and Ron’s flat for two and a half hours now and they still hadn’t come up with a concrete plan for how to approach Hermione.

 

“It seems like the most reasonable course of action, P.” Ron said, standing up to embrace his fiancée despite her mild protest.  She capitulated with a chaste kiss to his cheek and a brief embrace before she stalked into the room.  Anyone who saw them in public would think her cold and unfeeling, but she had simply been brought up to be averse to public displays of affection.  Public, in this case, meant in front of others and despite their familiarity, Harry and Ginny counted as others.

 

“You would think after however many years we’ve been friends that some of my Slytherin traits would have rubbed off on you three.” She smirked, sliding into a chair at the table, across from Ginny while Ron leaned against the back of her chair, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck.

 

“Hey now,” laughed Harry as he flashed her a wide grin.  “I’ve inherited a bit of your sense of self preservation.  It’s kept me alive on some of the more dangerous missions.”

 

“Then talk some sense into this one, Potter.  I’ve clearly not made a dent in him.”  She smirked, motioning to Ron before turning to stare at her perfectly manicured fingernails as if expecting to find some imperfection.

 

“What would you do, then?” Ron snapped with an indignant expression, annoyed that his fiancée and best friend were having a laugh at his expense.  Pansy ignored him, finding some small amount of pleasure in getting under his skin.  He usually brushed it off within a moment or two, anyways.

 

“Something subtle, cunning.  You need to find a way to interact with her where this secret identity she’s concocted for herself remains intact.  Not to mention cornering her somewhere where she won’t feel overly threatened.  If you go about it in a very public place without that subtlety, you’ll likely have to call in the Oblivators if she happens to have her wand on her.”

 

Taking a sip of her tea, Ginny admired her future sister in law.  The witch really was a brilliant auror.  “Pansy’s absolutely right.  We all know that Hermione left for a reason.”

 

Harry trained his eyes on his deputy knowing Pansy would be unable to offer further advice unless she knew the full story. “We’ve been tailing her for a few weeks under the invisibility cloak.” Harry commented, adjusting his glasses.  “In the morning, she meets a muggle man for coffee, goes to work at the school, and then goes home.  On Tuesdays, she typically goes to the market and on Thursday she goes the library.  That’s if she’s not going somewhere with the muggle.”

 

Pansy raised an eyebrow almost in disbelief.  “Granger is dating a muggle?”

 

If Granger was willing to go so far as to date a muggle man, it was very likely she wasn’t intending on returning to the wizarding world.  What if the witch had already snapped her own wand?

 

“From what we can tell, he seems to be some kind of healer and he’s really quite handsome.  They look really good together, if you can believe that.”  Ginny said, taking a sip of tea. “I’m on Hermione watch next Monday, Pansy.  You can come with me.”

 

Pansy shrugged her shoulders, though she wasn’t entirely certain what watching Hermione have coffee with a muggle man would accomplish.  “Sure.  Why not?  It’s been a while since I’ve been in the field.”  She gave a little chuckle. 

 

“It’s almost like a real mission without one of those silly code names the younger trainees like to give them.”

 

Harry snorted a laugh, “Like Operation Return the Princess to the Castle.”

 

“Or Operation Bookworm Bounty.”

 

Ron crossed his arms over his chest and eyed his fiancée with a teasing smile.  “I’m not sure I want you spying on supposedly handsome men.” 

 

Pansy smacked Ron on the arm, playfully.  “Shush, Ronald.  I think this ring on my finger says I’m unlikely to be swept off of my feet by some random muggle.  Besides, I’m a highly trained auror.  It’s not the first time I’ve had to tail a handsome man or an elusive woman.”

 

Placing his hands on her shoulders, Ron lead down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, much to her chagrin.  She was thoroughly in love with the man, but his displays of affection in front of their friends drove her batty.

 

Harry shifted into his Head Auror voice as he glanced between his deputy and his wife.  “You two go tomorrow to see if her routine is the same as it always is.  Pansy may be able to offer more insight into how to proceed once she sees Hermione in the field.”

 

He rested his head against the dark, curving wood at the back of the chair in which he sat, his mind drifting to his former best friend. 

 

It had been four since weeks since they had found her and they were no closer to approaching her than they had been that first day they saw her sneak into her school.  Showing up at random was starting to seem like the best course of action but he didn’t want to risk her fleeing before them.  Hopefully Pansy would be able to think of something they hadn’t.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The stars were twinkling, dotting the blackness of the night sky and a full round moon was gracing the heavens with its presence when Draco and Maya drove towards her flat.  The streets were calm and quiet with only an occasional car passing by, the sound of the engine cutting through the silence.  His mind drifted to the end of their evening at the park where they had simply gazed at the stars together.  

 

_Draco pointed to one of the constellations visible in the night sky, tracing over it with his index finger.  “Lyra.  The lyre of Orpheus.  They say Orpheus was able to charm even the stones with his music.”_

_Maya intertwined her fingers with his as she traced the constellation with her own finger, the smile upon her lips evident in her voice as she spoke. “I’m certain even the stones were charmed from the concert from tonight.”_

_She moved her hand over just a bit and began tracing the outline of another constellation as it’s winding tail wove through the night sky.  “That one is Draco.”_

_The way his given name rolled so easily off of her tongue and tumbled over her lips caused his breath to catch as a warmth spread throughout his chest.  It had been years since anyone had uttered his name aloud.  He had chosen the name Drake because it was so close to his own and seemed to be an acceptable alternative._

_“Draco is said to represent Ladon, the dragon who guarded the golden apples of the Hesperides.” She said quietly, still tracing the outline of the stars in the sky with her finger._

_How he longed to hear his name cross her lips again._

_“Heracles killed Ladon with poisoned arrows to steal the golden apples as one of his labours.  Hera placed the image of the dragon into the sky as the constellation Draco.”  He offered, having heard his mother recount the mythology of his namesake countless times to him growing up.  If the Blacks were to be named after constellations, it was imperative they knew their own history and mythologies._

_Draco imagined his mother in all of her finery, perched at the end of his bed while he clutched a stuffed dragon to his chest.  “You must be brave, my dragon.”  His mother had said, “for Ladon stood in the face of adversity and did all he could to protect his charge.  You must show the same fierce determination as Ladon, my love.  You must be brave and steady against all odds.”_

_Draco had thoroughly taken his mother’s words to heart, doing his best to remain steady and true, only rarely faltering in his own beliefs.  When threatened, Draco took up the mantle of the Death Eaters to protect his own family lest he be forced to watch their torture and death.  Malfoy’s protected their own above all else._

_The sudden thoughts of his mother made him feel exceedingly guilty for his absence all these years.  Perhaps he should write her._

_“We should get back.”  Maya whispered, sitting up on the blanket, wrapping her arms around her knees in a small effort to ward off the chill of the evening.  “You have to be at the hospital tomorrow and I’m keeping you from much needed sleep.”_

_Draco sat up and placed his hand along her back, just between the blades of her shoulders. “I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect evening, but I agree that we both need our rest.”_

Having reached her flat, Maya gingerly slid the key into the lock, twist it so the door would swing open.  Turning around, she leaned against the doorframe and looked carefully Draco with an unreadable expression.

 

“Would you like to come in for a few minutes?”  Even in the dim light from the street lamps, Draco was certain she was blushing.  “I... I know you need to get your rest but…” she paused. 

 

It was clear she didn’t want their time together to end, even though they had been dating for several months now.  Draco didn’t want to leave the wonderful woman at his side, either.  Before she could finish whatever it was she was saying, he replied with a simple, but emphatic “yes.”

 

Upon entering her small flat, the pair of them settled onto a comfortable cream-colored sofa after Maya made them each of a cup of tea.  They remained in companionable silence simply enjoying each other’s presence until their tea was finished.  Maya tucked her feet beneath her and rested her head against Draco’s chest as he wrapped her arms about her shoulders.  The way she fit within his embrace, it was as if she were made for him and him alone and he relished in it.

 

The more time he spent with this woman, the more he was certain he never wanted to let her go.

 

“I’ll miss you tomorrow.”  She said, breaking the silence as she traced a swirling pattern with the tip of her index finger over his chest that reminded him almost of one of the runes he studied ages ago.

 

“You could still meet me for coffee, you know.”  Draco’s lips lingered as he kissed the top of her head, inhaling the sweet, herbal scent of her hair. 

 

With a mischievous laugh, she replied, “You know I thoroughly intend on sleeping in tomorrow.  I have been waiting ages for this break.”

 

“I see how it his.” A sly grin crossed Draco’s face.  “Sleep is clearly more important than our standing date for morning coffee.” 

 

“Obviously.”  She drawled, barely holding back a giggle. “I promise I’ll meet you for coffee later this week, but tomorrow, I plan on sleeping until noon.”

 

“I can’t fault you for that, sweetheart.”  Draco would sleep in until noon every day if he had the option.

 

Her tone turned somber as she spoken, pulling her arms around him more tightly than before.  “Must you go?” 

 

“I must,” he said, though it pained him to do so.  No, he never wanted to let this one go.

 

……….

 

 

“I don’t think she’s coming out, Red.”

 

The agitation was present in her voice as she shifted on her feet and crossed her arms sullenly over her chest.  The raven-haired witch had been waiting outside of Hermione’s flat, across the street and down a bit beneath a tattered green awning for the better part of an hour with a ginger-haired witch who was insistent that the witch they were waiting for never deviated from her schedule. If there was anything Pansy Parkinson hated more than starting her day without a strong cup of coffee, it was waiting.

 

Ginny practically whined.  “She’s always come out of her flat by this time before.  Every single day I’ve been here; it’s like clockwork.  Predictable.  The witch is never late.” She turned her gaze away from Pansy as she continued to check for movement down the street, grumbling under her breath when there was a distinct lack of movement. 

 

Casting a quick _tempus_ charm, Pansy frowned as the time was displayed.  “She was supposed to come out twenty minutes ago.”  

 

There were several factors which could be keeping one Hermione Granger cooped up in her flat, the most obvious being illness of some sort, though it was possible that she had caught onto their little scheme and intended to leave earlier rather than later. 

 

As if on cue, Pansy’s stomach rumbled entirely too loudly for her comfort, clearly protesting at her lack of a second cup of coffee and the need for a muffin.

 

“Gin, I have the patience of a Cornish Pixie and I’m desperate for coffee.  As much as I want to see this gorgeous doctor and tail Granger with you, I have to make a coffee run for my own sanity. Do you want anything?”

 

The red-head thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No thanks.  I think I’m going to stay here for about twenty more minutes and then leave.  If she’s not out by then, she must be sick or something, you know?”

 

“That’s what I was thinking, as well.”

 

“Meet you back at Grimmauld Place?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Pansy turned from her companion and walked down the street, her hands resting in the pockets of her black pea coat.  Her eyes took in the surroundings in the early morning light, thankful that Hermione had taken a flat in a modest part of London. 

 

The streets were relatively clean and surrounded by various shop fronts with flats above them. She passed a few shops she made note of to return to later and opened the door of a coffee shop down the street.  The smell of coffee and blueberry muffins hit her nose the moment the door swung open on its hinges, leading to a giddy smile that only the thought of a steaming cup of coffee could conjure. 

 

She was standing in line behind a balding gentleman who was taking entirely too long to place his order for a simple dark roast with two shots of heavy cream when she heard it, _his_ laughter. Laughter she hadn’t heard in over ten years. Unmistakable, deep, rumbling laughter that set her very soul back into alignment.

 

Her back stiffened in anticipation and she whipped her head around, her eyes flicking appraisingly over each and every person in the coffee shop, both male and female.

 

Sitting next to a window with an open novel was a tall, handsome, pale man with angular, aristocratic features, tousled brown hair and deep blue eyes.  He wore black slacks and a charcoal gray oxford with a deep blue tie.  A partially empty cup of black coffee sat in front of him as he reclined back in the armchair.  Even without his characteristic platinum hair and stormy eyes there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that the man across the coffee shop was Draco Malfoy.

 

Pansy wouldn’t be surprised if her heart pounded its way out of her chest.

 

With a quick order for something simple, Pansy grasped the travel tumbler from the barista between her hands, taking comfort in the familiar scent of the coffee, and walked over to where her best friend was sitting, her black stilettos clicking along the tile floor.

 

Despite the fact that he had walked out of her life over ten years ago, in what seemed to be the same way Granger had to her fiancée and their shared friends, she had to address the elephant in the room. And boy, was it a big elephant.

 

“What in Merlin’s name did you do your hair, Draco?  Narcissa would happily stab you with one of her hairpins if she ever caught you with anything other than blonde.” She quipped, giving him a sly smile as though she had seen him only yesterday.

 

Given the velocity with which he turned his head to look at her, she was sure Draco was about to dislocate his head from his neck. 

 

“Pansy.” He breathed, all remaining color draining from his face at the sight of her. 

 

Before she could reply, his arms were wrapped tightly around her lithe frame.  Public displays of affection were rarely observed within the pureblood circles in which they were both raised, but this took that to an entirely new level.  Draco’s arms practically swallowed Pansy and he squeezed her tightly as though she would disappear right then and there. 

 

Shouldn’t it be the other way around?  He was, after all, the one who had abandoned their world, not the other way around.

 

“Draco.” She whispered in a strangled voice, carefully balancing her precious coffee in one hand.  “Can’t… breathe.” 

 

He released her from his too tight embrace and motioned for her to sit in the chair across from his. “Pansy, I… I can’t believe you’re here.”

 

She settled into the chair, crossing one leg over the over willing her stiletto-clad foot not to bounce.  Pansy took a sip of her coffee and stared at him for a moment, analyzing every detail of his appearance.  It was clear he had been hiding in plain sight. Had she not known him since they were in nappies, even she may not have recognized him.  The changes were subtle, but they certainly did the job.

 

“This was the last place I ever expected to see you, Draco.  But seriously, what in Merlin’s name did you do to your hair?” She narrowed her eyes at the offensive brown and reached out as if to touch it. 

 

“It’s a charm.” He deflected, keeping his voice low.  “How did you recognize me?”

 

She cocked a sarcastic eyebrow. “I’ve only known you for thirty years, Draco Malfoy.  We’ve been best friends since before we both learned to walk. I’m not someone you can just hide from… even with that awful color on your hair.”

 

He nodded, seemingly accepting her answer.  “So… how have you been?”

 

“Worried sick about you, you prat.  You’ve been gone for ten years.  Ten, Draco. T-E-N.  Where have you been?  Why haven’t you written?” He flinched back slightly with her barrage of questions, though she simply stared at him intently, thoroughly expecting a full explanation.

 

“Here.”  He said, motioning around him, keeping his facial expression carefully neutral.  Well, he certainly hadn’t lost the Malfoy indifference in ten years, though it took him longer than anticipated to slam the mask on.

 

“That’s not even close to a satisfactory answer, Draco.”  She huffed, taking a long drink of her coffee.

 

“I’ve been here the entire time… in the muggle world.”  Draco paused, staring down into his nearly empty cup of black coffee. “There wasn’t a place for me in… our world, when I made the decision to leave.” He frowned as his voice grew quiet, almost strained. 

 

“But… I’m happy here.  I never thought I could be.  I was just seeking a bit of anonymity but I’m truly happy.”  A winning smile crossed his features as he dropped the mask of indifference and she caught a flash of familiar gray dancing just below the blue of his eyes. 

 

Pansy grasped his hand tightly in her own her.  “I’ve missed you terribly, Draco… but I’m glad you’ve found happiness.”  She thought about how difficult things had been for him after his trial and empathy bubbled up with her chest.

 

“I know… that wasn’t possible when you left.”

 

Draco nodded, appearing rather uncomfortable speaking of the past. 

 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, changing the subject.  “We’re nowhere near Diagon Alley.” 

 

Pansy chuckled, heartily.  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She said with a dismissive wave of her hand, her mind drifting back to her earlier stake-out near Granger’s flat with Ginny Potter of all people.  So much had changed in her little world since she last saw Draco, it was entirely likely he wouldn’t believe her.  At the time of his departure, she had been considering pursuing healing.  What on earth would he think about her as an not only an auror, but Deputy Head of the DMLE?

 

Draco flashed her his charming signature smirk.  “Try me.”

 

She leaned close, her eyes sparkling with delight and mischief.  “Auror stuff.”  She said evasively, taking a sip of her coffee from the travel tumbler.

 

“You… who tried to turn Potter over to the Dark Lord… an Auror.”  Draco could barely suppress his laughter and the disbelief shone clear in his eyes.  “Seriously, what are you really doing here?”

 

Pansy’s expression fell as she narrowed her eyes at him, a dangerous glint encompassing the almost black orbs.  It was the same expression she wore when interrogating criminals.  

 

“ _Harry_ has forgiven me for that and yes, I work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and am second in command to none other than Harry Potter himself.”

 

He stared at her, but she could see the pride coupled with confusion in his eyes.  She knew exactly how she had portrayed herself when they were in school, vapid and silly with all intents to marry rich and never work, though she dabbled in the healing arts.  

 

“You’re serious.”  He confirmed.

 

“It’s a rather long story, but yes.  Deadly serious.  I entered into the Auror Corps not too long after the end of the war, after the Ministry had been reestablished.  You were already gone by then.”

 

“I’m proud of you, Pansy.  I really am.” Draco said, sincerely.  “What an absolutely massive accomplishment.”

 

Glancing down at his wristwatch, Draco frowned and sighed. “I hate to do this, but I’m due at work in ten minutes.”  

 

He didn’t look as though he was trying to run away again, but she felt as though she had to find some way to ensure she would see him again.  He had waltzed out of her life once before and she’d be damned if she was going to let it happen again.  There were so many unanswered questions she had and she could only imagine those he wanted to ask of her. 

 

“Can we get lunch or tea sometime soon?”

 

From a pocket in his trousers, he pulled out a muggle telephone.  Pansy watched with curiosity as his finger slid across the smooth glass and tapped several times in various spots.  “Can you meet met next week on Thursday around five?”

 

She would rearrange the world to see her best friend again.  “I’ll be here.”

 

Pansy clung to Draco as though he would disappear again when they embraced before parting ways.  Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she felt Draco place a chaste kiss on top of her head as he had done many times before. 

 

“I won’t disappear again, P.  I’ll be here next Thursday at 5:00, I promise.”

 

Her posture relaxed and she smiled up at the formerly blonde haired, gray eyed wizard.  “And do something about your hair.”

 

With a shake of his head and a laugh, he turned and walked out of the door.

 

……….

 

 

“I don’t know what happened, Harry.  She never came out of her flat.” Ginny was leaning back in an arm chair with her feet propped up on the coffee table.  She felt tired, exasperated, and confused from her uneventful morning. 

 

“That’s not like her.” Harry said, frowning.  If there was one thing he knew would be a constant with regards to Hermione it was her consistently kept routines.  If it was in her routine to be out of the door at precisely 6:46 a.m. She would walk out of the door at that exact time, not a moment before or after.

 

“Maybe she’s ill?” Ron offered, scratching at the stubble on his chin.  “She does work at a school and kids tend to be a breeding ground for illness.  Just ask mum.”

                                                    

Harry, Ginny, and Ron looked up from their quiet conversation as Pansy entered the main living area at Grimmauld Place.  While she always carried herself with an air of calm superiority and grace, there was something different about the carefully guarded expression on her face as she entered the room.   

 

As Ron rose from his chair to greet and lovingly embrace his fiancée, the corners of his mouth turned down into a slight frown.  “Hey sweet pea.  What’s wrong?”  Just by looking at her expression, he could tell something monumental had happened to her that morning.

 

Before she could get a word out, Pansy felt a steady stream of tears cascading down her cheeks as she buried her face in Ron’s neck, sobbing.  Ginny noted Pansy was still holding a to-go coffee and gently removed it from her grip watching as Pansy’s arms flew around her brother.  Ron threw a helpless glance to Ginny who shrugged. 

 

Harry watched the scene with interest.  Pansy showed no sign of injury.  In fact, there wasn’t a hair out of place on her head. Clearly whatever had happened to the witch was emotional, not physical.  He had worked alongside Pansy for several years within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and not once had he seen her once openly cry in front of anyone.

 

He ran through the lists of her former housemates and family members in his head thinking perhaps something had happened with one of them.  Pansy’s mother and father were deceased and the anniversary of their deaths had already passed.  Astoria Greengrass was happily married to Theodore Nott and living in France.  Millicent Bullstrode and her lovely girlfriend, Adriana Nettlepin, were off exploring Japan on their honeymoon.  Blaise Zabini was in Italy for his grandmother’s funeral. Draco Malfoy had disappeared not long after completing his seventh year and sitting his N.E.W.T.s and no one had heard from him since.

 

Malfoy.

 

Before Harry could speak his name, Pansy’s breathing had returned to a less erratic pattern and the stream of tears slowed as she whispered.  “Draco…”

 

“Malfoy?” Ron wrinkled his nose at the thought of his old school-yard nemesis but continued rubbing gentle circles over Pansy’s back, knowing he had been an important part of his witch’s life.  “What about Malfoy?”

 

Harry’s head snapped up from where he had been staring at the floor. “Pansy.  Did you see Malfoy?”

 

She nodded with a sniffle. 

 

While Pansy rarely spoke of Draco Malfoy, Harry knew they were close growing up and throughout school.  In the early days of her time as an Auror she kept a case file on him and used any spare moment she could to try and track him down with no avail.  She followed every lead diligently, sent him owls which returned unable to locate him, and pressed everyone she could for information on his whereabouts.  Harry had done much the same when it came to Hermione. Draco was Pansy’s Hermione.

 

Ron gently pulled Pansy down on to the sofa, keeping a protective arm wrapped around her shoulders. Pansy closed her eyes and sat solemnly, carefully regulating her breathing.  Breathe in for a count of five.  Hold.  Breath out for a count of five. Ron swallowed his pride and pushed the negative thoughts of Malfoy aside for Pansy’s sake. 

 

“You saw Malfoy.  Did Malfoy see you, sweet pea?”

 

“We talked… as if… as if he never left.  As if it hasn’t been ten bloody years.  As if he hadn’t abandoned everything and everyone who ever cared about him.”

 

She rubbed vigorously at her temples, staving off the slowly building anger with a countdown in her head _.  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.  Breathe, Parkinson._

 

Ron exchanged a look with Harry, both wizards fully understanding the depth of her reaction.  

 

Once she had her emotions back under control, she said calmly, “I’m meeting him next week for tea.  He promised he wouldn’t disappear again.”

 

“That’s good, right?” Ron questioned, warily as he dragged his fingertips down Pansy’s arm.  He wasn’t used to seeing Pansy so out of control with her emotions.  He empathized with her because he knew as soon as he got the chance to speak with Hermione, he would be an emotional train wreck as well. 

 

Pansy nodded, suddenly gasping.  Her eyes widened and she threw Ron’s arm from around her shoulders, jumping up from the sofa.  “Sweet Salazar, I need to owl Narcissa.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

_Madam Malfoy,_

_I am writing to inform you that after ten years and many efforts, I have finally made contact with your son, Draco. He is alive, well, and living in Muggle London. With your express permission, I should like to call on you at a convenient time to relay what I have been able to ascertain._

_Fondly,_

_Pansy Parkinson_

 

Narcissa Malfoy clutched the crisp sheet of parchment to her heart, feeling the tears well up in her eyes.  She had not seen nor heard from her precious Draco in over ten years.  He had sent her one owl following his abrupt disappearance ensuring her of his safety but nothing since then.  Not a sighting, a glimmer, or a word from her son is over ten excruciatingly long years. 

 

Narcissa gripped the parchment tightly in her hands as though it would flutter away on the softest breeze and dutifully re-read the message from the Parkinson girl. She carefully refolded the parchment, dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief and straightened her robes.  With a click of her heels, she was carried to the door of her husband’s study and with a sharp rap on the wooden door, she heard his voice call gently for her to enter.

 

Narcissa pushed the door open and squared her shoulders as she approached the desk behind which Lucius sat, pouring over the account books. The years spent in Azkaban had taken a toll on Lucius Malfoy’s health and his skin had taken on a gaunt pallor. He was prone to illness and coughing fits when he became overly excited and the potions he took only did so much to prolong his health.  Narcissa paused wondering how she should present the information to her husband that Draco was in fact alive and well, at least according to the Parkinson girl. 

 

“Lucius, I need to speak with you.”  She started, stepping behind her husband’s desk to place a kiss on his cheek, feeling one of his arms encircle her waist. 

 

“Yes, my dear?” Lucius’ gray eyes met hers and she could see the apprehension behind his gaze.  His confidence was not what it was once and she knew that he longed for an early retirement.  Unfortunately, while the various enterprises that made up Malfoy Industries tended to run themselves, they still required constant oversight. This added stress certainly did not help keep his health under control.

 

In the calmest voice she could muster, Narcissa stated, “The Parkinson girl has found Draco.” She pulled the letter from her robes and presented the piece of parchment to her husband.

 

“Cissa, is he…” Lucius started, a shaky hand reaching out to take the parchment.

 

“He’s alive and well, Lucius.  Our son is safe.”  Narcissa drew her arms around Lucius’ shoulders as she felt his other arm encircle her waist. 

 

“What else do you know?”  He questioned, his eyes scanning the letter from the Parkinson girl as he clung to his wife.

 

“Only that he has been living in muggle London.”  Narcissa stated, running her fingers through Lucius’s hair in an attempt to soothe him.  “I’ll be inviting Miss Parkinson for tea this afternoon if she is free to find out what she knows.” 

 

“Do you think he will want to see us?”  Lucius doubted the words even as the escaped from his lips. 

 

“He has no choice.”  Narcissa said fiercely.  “I am his mother and he will not be able to hide much longer if I have anything to say about it.”

 

 

_Miss Parkinson,_

_I am delighted to hear that my son is alive and well.  Please join me for tea this afternoon at Malfoy House if you are available.  I will await your reply._

_Affectionately,_

_Narcissa B. Malfoy_

 

Pansy Parkinson stared at the piece of pristine white parchment with gold edging in her hand as she paced around Harry’s office, a rapidly cooling cup of coffee in the other.  A great horned owl perched on a stand in the corner and hooted impatiently.  It had been years since Pansy had corresponded with Draco’s mother, but Pansy had made a promise to her on the day he left that if she ever found him, she would notify Narcissa as soon as humanly possible.  Pansy released a groan of frustration and threw the parchment down onto Harry’s desk.

 

“You have to go, Parkinson.  You’re the one who offered to call on her in the letter you sent.”  Harry picked up the parchment, examining the precise lettering as he leaned back in his chair. 

 

“I know I have to go.  I just wasn’t expecting tea today with Draco’s mother.”  Pansy pursed her lips and grunted in a very unladylike manner.  “Next week perhaps, but certainly not to day.”

 

“Is there some kind of problem with Mrs. Malfoy?”  Harry raised an eyebrow at her, curious as to why Pansy was so out of sorts at the prospect of meeting with Draco’s mother.

 

Pansy roughly pulled her fingertips through her short, black locks, taking a long draw of the sweet nectar from the cup in her hand.  “No.  I just… I know that Narcissa will have questions that I don’t have answers to.  My dinner with Draco isn’t for another three days.”  

 

“You’re scared of her.”  Potter accused with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on his desk.  “Narcissa Malfoy terrifies you.”

 

Pansy shot him a look that told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t shut his trap she would shut it up for him. 

 

Her voice got dangerously low as she said, “You didn’t have to grow up with the queen of snakes trying to shove you into an arranged marriage with someone who was practically your brother.”  Pansy’s teeth and non-coffee holding fist were clenched as she continued to pace around his office.

 

The owl looked at her disapprovingly each time she passed his perch.

 

Harry couldn’t hide his laughter.  “You forget, I lived with the worst of the worst muggles and grew up in a cupboard under the stairs.” 

 

“That has nothing to do with Narcissa Malfoy, her marriage plans, her conniving ways, and the fact that she wants to have tea with me in less than two hours.”  She snipped.

 

“Just tell her what little you know and be done with it.”  Harry offered, running his hand across the back of his head. 

 

“That won’t be the end of it.  You don’t know the woman like I do.”  A shudder cracked across Pansy’s spine light a bolt of lightning.  Narcissa Malfoy was one of the most ruthless manipulators in the pureblood circles and likely in all of wizarding Britain.  She almost always got her way and if she wanted her son back, nothing would be able to stop her.

 

“Point.”  Harry said, “Do what you think is best, Parkinson.” 

 

Pansy narrowed her eyes and plopped down ungracefully in the leather chair in front of Harry’s desk, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. “What are you going to do about your Hermione problem?” She said, changing the subject trying to take her mind off of tea with Narcissa.

 

Harry frowned and pressed his palms into his eyes, moving his glasses up to rest on his forehead.  “I’m on watch tomorrow and I think if she shows that I’m just going to confront her.”  He said with a sigh.

 

“Why the sudden change of plans?”  Pansy sat up in her chair, her eyes watching the wizard closely. He was always one to stick to the plan.  Why was he thinking of going rogue?

 

“I’m tired of dragging it out.  We all want her back in our lives and stalking her under my invisibility cloak and by other means isn’t currently leading to the desired outcome.  It’s time for a change of plans and outright confrontation seems to be our only option left.”

 

Pansy snorted, cradling her coffee to her chest.  “You need some Felix Felicis, especially if you want that meeting to go well.  Ten galleons says she’ll try and run.”

 

“Bet.” 

 

“I guess if you can face Granger, I can face Draco’s mother.”  With yet another groan, Pansy took a piece of parchment from a stack on Harry’s desk and scribbled a quick note, indicating she would meet Narcissa Malfoy for tea.

 

……….

 

 

Hermione rubbed the sleep from her eyes as her piercing alarm blared through her room like a siren indicated the end of days. She fumbled for the blasted contraption, hitting everything on the night stand except for the elusive clock.  When her hand finally made contact with the miniscule button to turn off the infernal noise, she sat up in her bed, stretching her arms above her head with a drawn-out yawn.  She narrowed her eyes a the digitally displayed numbers and directed herself to get out of bed in order to meet Drake for coffee.  She still had several days left of her break, but she had promised to meet him before his shift this morning and therefore, it was time to get up. 

 

While she had seen him at other times during the week, starting her day sipping coffee and conversing about any and every subject was something she found she missed more than she thought she would.

 

Hermione threw her magically straightened hair into a messy bun on the top of her head and pulled on a pair of muggle jeans and a simple, blue shirt.  She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals before sauntering into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face.

 

Grabbing her bag, Hermione stepped out of her apartment, twisting the key in the lock before admiring the sunrise and the beautiful start to the day. She sauntered down the street, humming a familiar tune to herself and before she really knew it, she was pushing open the door to the coffee shop.  She stood in line behind a woman dressed in a mail carrier’s uniform perusing the pastry cabinet while she wanted, completely unaware of the lanky, raven haired man who had queued behind her.

 

As she approached the till, the barista gave her a winning smile after handing the mail carrier something in a to-go tumbler. 

 

“The usual, Maya?”  she asked, already keying the familiar order into the till.

 

Hermione nodded.  “Please.  I’ll go ahead and get Drake’s usual order too.  He should be here in…” she glanced at silver watch around her wrist, “five or so minutes.”

 

The cheery girl behind the counter repeated back her order with practiced ease. “One iced coffee, two extra hot black coffees, and an apple danish coming right up!”  Hermione held out a small, plastic card to the woman, the total for the “usual” having been memorized long ago.  

 

“Thank you, Symone.”

 

Just as Hermione was approaching the table near the window where she and Drake typically spent their mornings, she was stopped abruptly when a hand touched her shoulder.  She turned around, wondering if Drake suddenly decided to be playful and sneak up on her, when she caught sight of a man so familiar that all of the color drained from her face and she was certain her heart had stopped beating for at least one full second.

 

He spoke in a low tone, just a whisper of her name, “Hermione”, on his lips while he kept his hand firmly on her shoulder.

 

Hermione took a step back, her hands involuntarily balling into fists at her side as she stared at the wizard before her.  “No.”  It was more an utterance of disbelief than rejection as she was nearly certain she was hallucinating, despite the heavy weight of his hand on her shoulder moments before.

 

“Harry…”

 

“Hermione, please…” the man pleaded, stepping towards her, even as she took another step back.

 

The sight of him sent her body into a panic.  Adrenaline coursed through her body, willing her to fight or flee.  Tears threatened to slide down her cheeks.  Emotions raged through her body and she didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, scream, or stay silent. 

 

Still was about all she could manage.  She couldn’t move and her mind was in such a state of shock, she simply remained still. 

 

Harry seemed to know exactly what she needed in that moment because he simply wrapped his arms around her, though she remained stiff in his embrace.  “I know this is a shock, Hermione.  I know you left for a reason and you didn’t want to be found, but we’re miserable without you.  Ginny, Ron, and I have been searching for you since you left.”  His voice was full of desperate as he spoke quietly, being careful not to attract attention to them in the busy coffee shop.

 

Unclenching her fists, Hermione’s hands scrambled for purchase as they wrapped around her former best friend in a nearly crushing embrace.  He was here and he was entirely real and though she was a veritable mess of emotions, somehow the one overpowering all of the others was relief.  Hugging him felt like home.

 

Cutting off all contact with her friends in the wizarding world was the only thing that made sense at the time.  It was the only way to make a clean escape.  Seeing him again made her doubt the decision she made a decade ago, but she managed to cast the doubt aside and find her resolve.

 

“I did what I thought was right,” she muttered against his chest, unable to stifle the flow of tears any longer. “I’m sorry for leaving… but you know I had to.”

 

“Gods, Hermione, we’ve been so worried about you.” Harry said, tightening his embrace around the petite witch in his arms.

 

They were interrupted as the barista quietly approached the pair with the coffee order balanced on a tray in her hands.  “Maya, is everything okay?”

 

Hermione pulled back from Harry’s embrace and wiped at her eyes with her hands, giving the barista a nod and a warm smile.  “Yes, of course, Symone.  Just a bit of a tearful reunion with an old friend.  Thank you.”

 

“Oh, how lovely.”  The barista gushed as she set the order down on Hermione’s usual table before moving back to the counter to serve another customer.

 

The sight of her coffee order snapped Hermione back into reality as she realized that her thoroughly handsome doctor boyfriend who was also very much a muggle would be walking into the coffee shop at any moment.  Grabbing the front of Harry’s shirt, Hermione pulled him close to her, taking a moment to breathe deeply before squaring her shoulders.

 

“I meet my boyfriend for coffee nearly every morning and he will be here any minute.  I’ve not broken the statute so he doesn’t have a clue that I’m not a muggle.” 

 

Her expression changed as she continued, “If you find a way to ruin this for me, I will go take my wand out of storage and I guarantee you it will take St. Mungo’s a month to undo the spells I cast.” 

 

Harry couldn’t help but smile as the sparkle returned to Hermione’s eyes.  He knew that his best friend wasn’t the sobbing mess he had been cradling in his arms moments before but that she was the strong, confident witch standing before him, threatening to hext him into next week.  By the gods, how he had missed her!

 

“I won’t give you away, Hermione –“

 

“Maya.  My name is Maya, now.” She corrected, poking a finger into his chest.  She really didn’t want to explain to Drake why Harry called her by a different name.

 

“Maya.”  Harry confirmed with a cut nod.  “Just… when he leaves, please don’t run away again.”

 

“I won’t.  You and I have a lot to discuss now that you’re here.”

 

A tall, lean figure with brown hair and dazzling blue eyes entered the coffee shop, seeking out Hermione with his gaze.  As he approached her, Hermione stepped towards him and fell into his arms with a contented sigh as she pressed her head against his chest.  His arms enveloped her but he couldn’t hide the look of concern on his face as he noted her harried expressions, pinked cheeks, and possible tear tracks.

 

“Is everything alright, love?”  He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

 

Nuzzling against him and breathing in his familiar scent, Hermione nodded.  “Yes, of course.”  She stepped back and smiled up at him before taking his hand.  “Come, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

 

As Maya turned to lead him towards their normal table, Draco’s eyes caught sight of none other than Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived was at their coffee shop and at his table and smiling at his girlfriend.  He checked the contents of the table and realized it was his and Maya’s normal order on the table so clearly his schoolyard enemy wasn’t there by simple coincidence.

 

Draco carefully wiped all traces of recognition from his features as Potter turned to look at him.

 

Maya gestured to the lanky man with dark colored frames and a faded lightning bolt shaped scar.  There was absolutely no mistaking that the man before him was The Boy who Lived.  “Drake, I would like to introduce Harry Potter.”

 

Draco took Potter’s offered hand in a firm handshake, placing his other hand at the small of Maya’s back in an almost possessive gesture. 

 

“Drake Moore.”  He said, watching Potter’s face carefully for any sign of recognition.  Seeing none, he allowed himself to relax slightly hoping this wasn’t some sort of trick.  Hadn’t Potter been training to be an auror before he left?

 

All traces of Maya’s previous distress were gone from her face when she said, “Harry is one of my oldest friends.” 

 

Draco felt Maya press back into the hand at the small of her back as though she were seeking some form of comfort.  He absently traced calming circles with his thumb and pondered the strangeness of this situation. 

 

“It’s nice to meet you.”  Draco said absently, his mind still trying to connect the dots between Potter and the woman at his side.

 

He vaguely heard Potter mutter, “Likewise,” before Maya pressed herself into his side.

 

“Drake and I have been dating since January,” she offered with a charming smile as she reached for her coffee. Draco pulled a chair out for her before sitting down next to her in a chair Potter had dragged over from another table.  He draped his arm across the back of Maya’s chair, lazily tracing indistinguishable patterns over her arm and shoulder.

 

“I’m happy to hear that, Maya.”  Potter said.  Draco noted there was something odd about the way he said Maya’s name, but perhaps he was imagining things.  He still couldn’t fathom how Maya might be acquainted with Harry Potter.  Either he was being incredibly dense this morning or he hadn’t had enough coffee, yet. There had to be a logical explanation.

 

“How did the two of you meet?” Potter asked.

 

“I gave a presentation to one of Maya’s classes for Career Day detailing the ins and outs of being a surgeon and asked her for coffee after all was said and done.”  Draco returned the smile Maya had given him and kissed her forehead affectionately, hoping she couldn’t sense his confusion at this entirely strange situation. Draco kept his arm wrapped around Maya’s shoulder while grabbing one of the two steaming cups of black coffee he knew were his. 

 

“Did you go to school together?” Draco asked, probing at one of the possible connections that were slowly forming in his mind.  It was possible Draco might just be more acquainted with the woman at his side than he previously thought, but it seemed so ridiculously farfetched that he didn’t even want to consider it a possibility.

 

“We did.”  Potter paused, “But then we lost touch about ten years ago.”  Harry’s voice was level and careful as he spoke as though he were suppressing something.  Draco silently cursed himself for not taking a subscription to the Daily Prophet while he was hiding in the muggle world.

 

“Harry and I were in the same year at school.  We tended to get into a bit of mischief here and there with one of our other friends.”  Maya laughed, as though she were replaying memories in her mind.

 

Harry smiled with a goofy grin and gestured towards Maya, “Yeah.  This one was always trying to keep us in line… as much as she could anyway, though she saved our skins a fair number of times.”

 

Draco felt like he had been punched in the stomach as the sudden realization hit him.  He turned his head to look at the woman at his side, closely examining her features.  The brown hair was the same color but she was missing her curls and it had been cropped to her shoulders.  Tiny freckles still dotted her cheeks and her previously large teeth were perfectly proportioned and straight.  He’d never looked closely at _her_ eyes, but he suspected they were still the exact shade of amber as the love of his life.

 

His tightened his arm around the fiercely intelligent, witty, and passionate woman sitting next to him as made the final connection. 

 

The woman who had thoroughly captured his heart in just a few short months was none other than Hermione Granger.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The rush of blood pounded in his temples as a dull ache settled behind his eyes.  With a deep breath which was a futile attempt to stop his head from spinning, Draco reminded himself of his surroundings and the people in his company.

 

He was in a muggle café which he went to nearly every morning for coffee, sitting across from Harry Potter, Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, with his arm lovingly draped around the shoulders of his girlfriend, Maya Garrett, primary school teacher. 

 

Except the name _Maya Garrett_ was an alias and the woman, no _witch_ , currently resting her head against his shoulder was in fact, Hermione Granger.  Brightest Witch of the Age.  Brains of the Golden Trio.  Gryffindor’s Princess.  Swotty, Know-It-All.  Mud…. No, he couldn’t even think that, especially not now.

 

How had he not seen it before?  Had she charmed him?  No, of course not.  Draco chided himself for even thinking it. She’d never given any inkling that she was magical.  He’d been to her flat and there wasn’t a single moving picture or anything else that could be construed as coming from the wizarding world.  Despite her large collection of books, there wasn’t a single one on any of the subjects they had studied in school.

 

He vaguely recalled comparing Maya’s intellect to Granger’s when they had first met, but the thought that his beloved could actually be Hermione Granger?  That had never crossed his mind.

 

Draco bit the inside of his lip to quell any outward sign that his stomach was doing backflips and his mind was spinning. What had prompted her to assume such a mundane existence and live without a trace of magic?  Had she run away from their world as he had? Why?

 

Memories of his encounter with Pansy earlier in the week rose to the forefront his mind. Pansy had always been ambitious and cunning and she had confessed she was now an auror.  Were she and Granger in some kind of plot together? Did Pansy even know Maya… Hermione... was in Muggle London? 

 

Why was Pansy just suddenly in this neighborhood in _their_ coffee shop of all places?  Come to think of it, why was Potter in their coffee shop?

 

Draco was certain that Pansy would have all of the answers to his myriad of questions, or at least, he hoped she would. Tea on Thursday was about to become much more interesting than a simple reunion with an old friend.

 

“Drake?” 

 

Draco tucked all of his questions and uncertainties into the back of his mind as he heard the lovely, lyrical tones of Maya’s… no… Hermione’s voice calling his name.  Merlin, Circe, and all of the Fates, how was he going to keep the pair of them straight in his mind, even though they were one in the same?  Yet another question he needed an answer to.

 

Hermione was waving a hand in front of his face, a slight frown marring her features.  “Hello?  Earth to Dr. Moore.”

 

“Yes, love?”  He replied automatically, blinking his eyes rapidly.  Her exacting eyes narrowed as she watched him carefully as he attempted to offer up a plausible explanation for his lack of presence.

 

“Rosales is out with the flu today, so I’ve had to take a few cases over from him.  My mind wandered away to appendectomies, hernia repairs, and post-op checks, forgive me?”

 

The lovely creature at his side smiled up at him with immediate forgiveness for his perceived mild transgression.  “Of course.” 

 

Draco was still having trouble reconciling the witch from his past with the woman from his present despite the fact that he knew they were one in the same.  He pressed a tender kiss atop her head, using the familiar feel and scent of her hair to anchor himself firmly to the present, to _Maya._  

 

“I was just saying that Harry has invited us to dinner next week.  Some of our friends from school will be there, and I’d love for you to meet them.  Can you check your schedule later?” she asked, laying her hand on his forearm. 

 

 _Our._   How little she knew how poignant that _our_ really was.  While Draco highly doubted any of _his_ former friends would be present at the dinner, his stomach churned somewhat at the thought of facing a pack of rabid Gryffindors and possibly a Ravenclaw if he was correctly recalling Lovegood’s affinity for the group.  Hadn’t the eccentric witch been spotted wearing an obscene Lion’s head during the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch matches?

 

With a nod of acknowledgement, Draco glanced down at his wristwatch, noting the time.  “I can check my schedule later today, but it’s time for me to head in.”  He said, quickly downing the rest of his coffee before kissing her on the cheek.

 

“You know how Sanderson gets if I’m late.”

 

Hermione chuckled, wrinkling her nose as the quiet laughter escaped between her lips.  Draco found it utterly charming every time she did it, and she thoroughly reminded him of why he found her so charming with her next comment.

 

“The old codger.  He really just needs to retire before his dentures fall off into someone’s intestines.” Draco was quite thankful she was never one to sugarcoat things and usually said what was on her mind.

 

Potter’s eyes narrow slightly in confusion, probably over the word dentures which led to a smug smirk on Draco’s part.  The normalcy of this exchange made the pounding pulse in his temples to subside momentarily. 

 

“You don’t have to tell me that.  I have to work under the old bastard.”  The insult rolled off of his tongue with ease while her eyes lit up with mirth.

 

“I’ll see you tonight?”  she asked, her bright eyes sparkling with adoration.

 

Draco uttered a silent prayer to any of the gods and wizards of old who might listen that he be able to act normal around her given his newfound knowledge.  He was firm in the decision that he didn’t want to give her up simply because they had a less than desirably history between them.

 

The thought of _Maya_ finding out _his_ identity and then immediately rejecting him sent a chill down his spine and essentially turned his stomach to stone.

 

Honestly, the majority of the strife in their adolescence had been because of him and his poor decisions and he owed the witch a desperate apology on his hands and knees if he wanted to ensure he could keep her.

 

He knew his feelings for Maya were genuine and he suspected that Hermione had maintained the façade due to the restricts surrounding the Statute of Secrecy, at least that’s what he hoped were true.  Though, he wondered why the witch changed her name.  Couldn’t she have been Hermione Granger in the muggle world as well in the wizarding world?

 

Perhaps Pansy would be able to provide some insight into that as well.  There was no use dwelling over everything at the moment.  He couldn’t afford to not have his wits about him with a full workload at the hospital looming before him. 

 

And then there was his date with Maya, no _Hermione_ , to think about.  They’d made plans to see a movie she wanted to a week or two ago and he certainly wasn’t going to back out.  He was determined to find a way to make this work, even if he had to break the Statue himself and come clean.

 

“Tonight.” Draco confirmed.  “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

 

Hermione nodded as Draco pulled her into his arms, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips with a publically appropriate amount of passion before offering his hand to Harry. 

 

“It was good to meet you, Harry.”  Draco said, squeezing the other man’s hand firmly, surprised at how easily the man’s first name rolled off of his tongue.

 

“Likewise, Drake.  We hope to see the two of you at dinner, next week.”  Harry said with a smile, returning the firm handshake. 

 

Perhaps it was time to fully bury the hatchet with Potter and the rest of the Gryffindors, especially if his witch was insistent upon them having dinner together.  The thought of calling her his witch made him grin.  After he absconded from the wizarding world, he certainly hadn’t considered returning – not with any real thought anyway.  He expected to find a muggle woman and live out his life in peace.

 

A relationship between the wizarding world’s most beloved witch and a Malfoy would certainly turn the wizarding world upside down.

 

Perhaps it was best if they never went back.  Was it even possible to live out their lives as Drake and Maya anymore? 

 

……….

 

After Drake exited the café, Hermione’s pleasant expression faded and her eyes filled with a venom that would rival any pureblood matriarch who had just been faced with the prospect of her son or daughter marrying a mudblood and polluting the family line. Well, if they subscribed to the old pureblood dogma, that is.

 

“We have to talk, Harry James Potter…”

 

“Hermione…” Harry had the decency to look sheepish.

 

“And here is not the place to do it.” She seethed, abruptly turning on her heels and walking out of the café, iced coffee in hand. It was impressive how quickly she could go from weepy, to practically simpering over her boyfriend, to angry.  This was definitely the best friend he remembered, though she had definitely changed and matured over the past ten years.

 

Harry scrambled from his place at the table and stumbled out after her.  Hermione pulled the hair-tie from her hair and pulled her fingers through her tresses roughly as she stormed down the quiet street towards her flat.  Harry hadn’t seen that look of determination on her face since they had faced down Voldemort together.

 

Silently thanking his father for passing down his long legs, Harry quickly caught up to Hermione, matching her pace. When he approached Hermione earlier he was expecting remorseful Hermione, irritated Hermione, or even excited to see him Hermione, certainly not ready to hex him into the next century Hermione.  He knew she didn’t want to be found, but he didn’t quite know what to make of the woman at his side.  There were so many questions still left unanswered. 

 

Harry attempted to speak again, but Hermione quickly cut him off.  “Don’t you say a word to me until we are safely inside my flat and you’ve put up several layers of silencing charms.” 

 

Well, fuck.  Hermione’s tone told him all he needed to know.  Maybe he should have brought back up.  Pansy would have been the best choice, given her training but she and Hermione never got along at school.  Ron would’ve made a mess of things like usual and Ginny would’ve given Hermione a thorough piece of her mind.  No.  Harry was in this alone, only he would be able to diffuse her like the ticking bomb she was. 

 

He supposed he deserved whatever he was about to get.  He was a bit of an arse to her before she left and then he surprised her in public and essentially forced a dinner invite down her throat.

 

He ran through the scenarios in his mind.  Should he silence her so he could get a word in before she exploded?  No.  She would never forgive him.  Should he refuse to speak with her until she calmed down?  No.  She likely wouldn’t calm down until she had had her say.  That only left one option, the one where Hermione spewed out whatever was on mind in a fury filled explosion. After she exploded they would be able to have a rational conversation, but not before. 

 

Harry sighed inwardly, Hermione’s temper was second only to Ginny’s.  At least she didn’t know Ginny’s famous Bat-Bogey hex; although she probably knew several which were worse.

 

Still, he was impressed she had held it in this long, turning into a seemingly charming and attentive girlfriend when her muggle boyfriend had entered the coffee shop.  He had forgotten how she could turn on a sickle when the situation called for it.  She had even bantered with him a bit and appeared very much like the Hermione he used to know.

 

He hadn’t expected her to stay alone while in the muggle world and he was fully aware that she was dating someone, but he didn’t expect to meet him when he went to confront her.  Drake seemed like a nice enough chap and thoroughly doted on Hermione from what Harry could tell.  If they both ended up coming to dinner, it would certainly prove interesting given that he was a muggle.  He would’ve bet his first-born child without a single doubt that Hermione hadn’t broken the Statute of Secrecy. Well, of course she hadn’t; she’d told him so.

 

Harry crossed the threshold into Hermione’s flat and immediately threw up a silencing charm with a whispered _Muffliato_.  He leaned against the front door with the best imitation of nonchalance he could muster and waited in the tense calm before the storm.

 

Hermione set her coffee down on the table in the small foyer and turned to face Harry, seething with anger, frustration, and some other emotion Harry couldn’t quite place.  She pointed her index finger at him threateningly and Harry counted himself thankful that she had forsaken magic and didn’t appear to have a wand on her at the moment, though he doubted she had snapped the thing.

 

“How dare you.”  She started with a hiss, almost baring her teeth.

 

“How _fucking_ dare you just waltz back into my life after ten years after brushing me to the side when I practically begged you to listen and understand?”  Hermione threw her hands up into the air. 

 

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m happy here?  That I didn’t and still don’t want to be found – that I’m comfortable in my anonymity here?”

 

Fear.  That other emotion in her eyes was fear.  Hermione was afraid of their world and what she had experienced within it.

 

Her voice jumped an octave and several decibels while Harry saw tears just starting to form in the corners of her eyes.  She spoke through clenched teeth and Harry was certain that if they weren’t standing in the middle of a sparsely furnished foyer, she would’ve thrown something at him. 

 

“I can’t go back to all of that, Harry.  I won’t go back.  I don’t know how you found me, but I’m not going back.  It nearly destroyed me and you, and Ginny, and Ron just sat there and told to deal with it.  Told me to pull up my knickers and tune out everything around me, but they never berated you like they did me.”

 

“You know how Skeeter had it out for me and all I got was a _deal with it._ ”

 

Harry winced.  They had done that, but they were _all_ being hounded by the press.  Hermione had been such a rising star in the ministry that they followed and stalked her more than everyone but Harry. For a while, none of them could go two steps down the street without flashbulbs going off in their faces and a nosy journalist without scruples asking them about their feelings on the war, impressions of Minister Shacklebolt, and even what they ate for breakfast or how they took their tea.

 

“Well this.” She gestured wildly at the flat they were standing in.  “ _This_ is how I’ve dealt with it and I’m _happy_.  Blissfully happy.  I have a good life and nothing you can say or do will make me go back to that hell hole.”

 

“If there’s anything I’ve learned in my self-imposed seclusion, It’s that I don’t need magic.  I miss it and I love it, but I’m perfectly capable of doing without it.”

 

Her words were starting to lose the punch that had previously accompanied each syllable.  She would break soon and Harry would be there to catch her and put her back together.  It’s what he should’ve done ten years ago and maybe all of the heartache they had shared could’ve been avoided.

 

“You’ve met Drake.  How could I _ever_ drag him into something as fucked up as the wizarding media circus?  How could I subject him to our world knowing exactly what awaits me if I return?  I can see the headlines now “Golden Girl Granger Comes out of Hiding.  Brightest Witch of her Age Stuns Wizarding World by Living as a Muggle for a Decade.”

 

The tears started to flow freely down Hermione’s cheeks and she protectively wrapped her arms around her waist, swaying unsteadily on her feet.  “I will not be their precious Golden Girl anymore.  It’s not worth it…”

 

Harry stepped forward from where he had been leaning on the door and wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulders, pulling her head into his chest.  Heavy sobs wracked her body as her arms flew around his waist. 

 

“I understand, Hermione.  I’m not asking you to come back.  All I’m asking is that you let us back into your life.”  Harry said, quietly as he rubbed a hand over Hermione’s back.  “We miss you.”

 

Ultimately, he would have preferred if she would have wanted to re-enter the wizarding world, but he would respect her decision.  If he could just get her to accept everyone back into her life, it was at least something. Now that he had found her, he sure as hell wasn’t letting her go again, no matter what she said.

 

Hermione sniffled against his chest, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.  “How did you find me?” she asked quietly once her breathing had finally leveled.

 

“We saw a picture of you in a muggle newspaper and went into full Auror mode from there.  It led us to the school where you work, though the old bat at the front wouldn’t give us any information.  When we left, we saw you sneak in a side door and started tracking you from there, trying to plan out a way to approach you.”

 

Harry figured that as long as they were at this point that he should at least be honest with her.  He fully expected Hermione’s anger to flare again once she realized they had been following her, but it never did.  She remained eerily calm.

 

Hermione nodded, squeezing him into a tight hug.  “I saw you, you know.  I saw you, Ginny, and Ron one morning and I hid in an alleyway.  It was the day you went to my school.”

 

Harry arched an eyebrow as a low chuckle escaped his lips.  “Resourceful as always.”

 

“Harry?”  She questioned tentatively, turning to meet his gaze with her own.  Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and bits of hair were stuck to her face.  Harry smoothed his fingers over her cheeks, brushing away the remainder of her tears. 

 

“I’m sorry… for everything… for running and hiding and avoiding you all for ten years.” 

 

“I’m sorry too, Hermione.  I should’ve found a way to support you and help you work through things.” He said, sincerely, smiling down at his former best friend.

 

“Are we going to be okay?” It was really the only question he desperately wanted an answer to. 

 

“I think so…” Hermione said, stepping back out of his embrace, smoothing her shirt with her hands, nervously.  “But it may take some time… especially for me.”  She inhaled a deep breath and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. 

 

It was certainly going to take some getting used to and she was still adjusting to the idea of letting her friends back into her life, but she felt that after ten years of hiding from them that she owed them something.  At the very least, she could try.

 

“I understand.”  Harry said, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose, hearing a strange, persistent sound coming from somewhere on Hermione’s person.  “What’s that beeping sound?”

 

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed with a level of recognition.  She reached behind her and pulled out a phone from her pocket, swiping her fingers delicately across the screen.  A smile rose to her lips as she read the text message from Drake.

 

_Thinking of you, beautiful.  I’m free on Friday or Sunday for dinner.  Can’t wait to see you tonight._

“What is that?” Harry asked, curiously, staring at the rectangular shape in her hand.

 

“It’s my phone.” Hermione said dismissively, tapping out a reply. “Drake sent me a text message saying he’s available on Friday or Sunday for dinner.”

 

Harry frowned, realizing just how out of touch he had become with the muggle world in recent years.  “Phones have come a long way since I lived with the Dursley’s…” He mused with a contemplative look on his face, this type of communication seemed much faster than the use of a Patronus or those charmed paper airplanes they used at the Ministry.

 

“Let’s do Friday.” He said, “Sunday is our standing family dinner with the Weasley clan.” 

 

“I’ll let Drake know.  You and I can work out the details later.” Hermione said as though it were the most natural thing in the world, as if she didn’t just explode her emotions on him. 

 

Harry smirked at the easy way she slipped back into their friendship, even though just moments before she had been very defensive about their future.  Hope bloomed in his chest.  Perhaps everything would work out just fine.

 

……….

 

“Let me get this straight.  Ron… Ronald Weasley, the most anti-Slytherin person we know, is engaged to Pansy Parkinson?”  Hermione doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach as it cramped from her incessant giggling. 

 

“You’ve got to be kidding.  There’s no way.” 

 

Harry lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk at her reaction.  They had been sitting in Hermione’s kitchen talking about the past ten years over a pot of very strong tea for the past several hours. 

 

“I’ll even swear to it on Dumbledore’s grave.”  Harry grinned, pushing his glasses up his nose.

 

There were tears at the corners of Hermione’s eyes from laughter as she continued to clutch her sides, even as her forehead came to rest on the table.  “How?” She breathed, “How is that even possible?”

 

“Before Ron left the department to work with George at the joke shop, they were partners.  I know what you’re thinking, but it was our head at the time who paired them up.  They weren’t happy about it at first but they became one of our best teams.  Pansy saved his arse during a raid over at the old Nott place and they’ve been inseparable since.”

 

“Wait.  What?  Parkinson became an auror?”  That realization stopped Hermione’s laughter and she lifted her wide, shocked eyes from the table to meet Harry’s.

 

“And a damn good one, too.” Harry flashed her a wide grin, taking a sip of his tea.  While he and Parkinson had had somewhat of a rough start, she was someone he fully respected. 

 

“She’s really become a good friend.  She and Ron are over at our place pretty often and surprisingly enough, Molly loves her.  She’s my second at the DMLE.”

 

“Are we talking about the same Pansy Parkinson? Short, black hair.  Turned up nose. Pureblood.  Temper for days. Always hanging off of Malfoy.”

 

She paused for a moment before adding, “Wanted to feed you to Voldemort.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that coffee courses through her veins rather than blood these days, but yes…. _that_ Pansy Parkinson… soon to be Pansy Weasley in a few short months.”

 

That sent Hermione into another gale of laughter.  “That just… I never… The two of them.”  She attempted to say between gasps of breath and side splitting laughter. 

 

“Ow…” she moaned, rubbing her side in an attempt to ease the muscle spasm.

 

“It’s hard to believe, but they’re disgustingly in love.”  Harry had waited several hours to drop that little gem on Hermione since he was thoroughly unsure of what her reaction would be.

 

“Pansy absolutely hates any sort of public display of affection, though Ron is slowly whittling away her resolve.  When they think we’re not looking, it’s really different to tell whose hands are whose.”

 

Harry’s thoughts momentarily drifted to his two friends. Pansy was the epitome of strong, independent woman and Ron followed her around almost like a puppy dog once he finally admitted his attraction to her.  She was always there to reign him in when his Weasley temper flared or when he got an idiotic notion in his head.  Ron was equally good for Pansy.  He thoroughly grounded her and kept her focused. Harry knew that he was intensely protective of the woman who had stolen his heart and saved his life. 

 

Pansy and Ron had bickered daily (and had even thrown a few hexes at each other) after Robards had paired them up but they found a way to work around their mutual dislike of one another, eventually.  Everything changed for Ron and Pansy after that raid at Nott Place, though.  While Pansy had ultimately saved Ron’s life, he was still grievously injured.  She didn’t sleep for nearly 72 hours and never left his bedside when he was at St. Mungo’s in a magically induced coma.  It was that injury that had prompted his early retirement from the auror division and committed Pansy to desk work for several months.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat up, resting her chin on her hand, staring straight into Harry’s green eyes.  “What’s next?  Is Luna dating Malfoy or something?”

 

Harry shook his head with a shrug of his shoulders.  “No.  No one’s really heard from Malfoy in years.  He disappeared kind of like you did… not long after his trial, though Pansy managed to reconnect with him the other day.” 

 

“Luna ran off to the states with Rolf Scamander, the grandson of that magizoologist we learned about in Care of Magical Creatures.  She and Ginny exchange owls about once a month.  I think Gin said she’s pregnant with twins.”

 

Hermione took a sip of her tea and leaned back in her chair, a genuine smile rising to her lips.  She had desperately missed this back and forth banter with Harry more than she fully realized.  Before she had left, their relationship had been somewhat strained and was easily fractured with the stress they were all put under thanks to the unwavering media circus.  She was hopeful that the others would be as accepting of her as he had been, even though she had been the one to abandon them.

 

Maybe there was some semblance of hope of living between the two worlds after all.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Pansy didn’t know why she was so nervous, but here she was, pacing back and forth in front of her fireplace.  Perhaps it was because the letter Narcissa had given her during their somewhat stiff and awkward tea earlier in the week was burning a hole in her pocket.  She eyed the clock of the wall and frowned when she realized she still had sixteen minutes to kill before she would need to apparate into that small alley near the coffee shop that she had met him in the day they attempted unsuccessfully to follow Granger.

 

At least Potter had finally confronted Hermione and they were all having dinner with Hermione and her muggle doctor whatever he was tomorrow evening. That was going to be a laugh, pretending to be muggles for the evening, but Potter had already extended the invitation.  That ball of anxiety grew in her stomach as she turned her thoughts to how Hermione might view her after so many years, especially since she was engaged to Ron. 

 

At least it was getting her mind off of her meeting with Draco.  

 

She had obviously made some mistakes in her youth and she had never been particularly nice to Hermione when they were at school together (to be honest, she’d been a right bitch), but hopefully the muggleborn witch could see that she had drastically changed.  Hell, she was marrying into the most Gryffindorish family of all of the Gryffindors in the entire wizarding world and she prayed daily to whatever deity might listen that any children she and Ron may have not end up with that mop of ginger hair.  Her sleek ebony locks would do nicely, thank you very much.

 

Another glance at the clock told Pansy she still had eleven minutes to kill.  She smoothed her black dress with her hands, brushing away imaginary wrinkles and microscopic specks of dust as her mind drifted back to Hermione.

 

Hermione had always been intelligent and Pansy knew she would be able to keep up with the witch on an intellectual level, but she was still intimidating, none the less.  It no longer bothered her that Ron’s face lit up when her tribe of Gryffindors started reminiscing about the _good old days_ when they’d all had a bit too much firewhiskey and Hermione’s name came up quite a bit.  She wasn’t jealous of the witch, perhaps just a bit intimidated.  She had meant so much to Ron and Harry and she sincerely hoped that they would be able to push aside past differences and at the very least be tolerant of one another, if not also become friends… if Hermione decided to stick around.  Maybe it would depend on how dinner went.

 

Dinner.  That reminded her of the letter that was burning a hole in the pocket of her dress.  Narcissa’s letter she promised to give to Draco.  It was yet another invitation to share in the evening meal and Pansy had an identical one sitting on her desk, though she suspected the one for Draco also contained a missive from his mother.  Narcissa honored the old ways and that meant written dinner invitations, coffee and cigars to follow, and formal dress.  Pansy rolled her eyes.  The formidable matriarch of the Malfoy family may have adjusted her views on muggleborns out of convenience but it didn’t mean that she didn’t still cling to her precious pureblood traditions.

 

Sodding invitations to formal dinners being one of them.  Pansy wasn’t even certain she still had a formal dress that would fit her any more.

 

Six minutes.  Pansy swore under her breath that the clock was bewitched to purposefully drag out each minute. 

 

Her tea with Narcissa had been rather awkward, especially because she didn’t have much to share with the older witch.  Between smatterings of gossip and a rather entertaining discussion about the designer of the dress Pansy had worn, Narcissa had asked countless questions about Draco and Pansy didn’t have answers to the majority of her questions. She left with a letter to Draco, a dinner invitation, and a promise to return for tea in the next week.

 

Pansy squared her shoulders and once again smoothed her dress, tucking her wand into the pocket with the letter and apparated out of her home and into the small alley near the coffee shop.  She was three minutes early, but she simply couldn’t stay in her flat any longer. 

 

When she opened the door of the coffee shop, she noted Draco was already inside sitting at a table with his very out of place brown hair and blue eyes.  That was definitely going to take some getting used to.  She missed his characteristic shock of white-blonde hair and pensive gray eyes. 

 

She approached his table and lifted the corner of her mouth in a smirk.  “I half expected you to flake out of me, Draco.”  She said in a teasing tone.

 

“You of all people, know I always keep my promises, Pansy.”  He said dryly, looking up at her over the book in his hand.

 

“Oh, forgive a girl for having a bit of a laugh.”  She chucked with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I knew you’d be here.  You were always a man of your word, Draco.” 

 

Pansy felt the ball of anxiety that had gathered in the pit of her stomach start to ease as a smile crossed his lips. 

 

“Are you ready to go?  I’ve made us a reservation.”  He said with a cool, contemplative expression, rising from his chair to stand. 

 

Pansy nodded and matched his stride, “Yes.  Where are we going?” She said as they walked out of the coffee shop, Draco holding open the door so she could pass through into the street.

 

Draco pulled a set of keys from his pocket as they approached his car. “It’s an Italian place I know of a few blocks away.” 

 

Pansy slid into the passenger seat as Draco opened the door for her, yet again. He clearly had not forgotten the manners his mother had instilled in him.  Pansy surveyed the inside of the car, it had been years since she had been in one and she had absolutely no idea why something would need so many buttons and knobs.  As Draco slid into the driver’s side and started the car, the engine roaring to life, Pansy pulled the safety belt across her waist and pushed the buckle into place. 

 

Cars were a certifiable death trap and she would’ve much rather apparated or ridden a broom to wherever they were going.

 

“When did you learn how to operate one of these things?”  She asked, breaking the silence as he turned a corner a little too fast for Pansy’s taste. 

 

“I took lessons not long after I started University.”  Draco said, his gaze focused ahead and several traffic lights blinked conflicting colors.  Pansy wasn’t sure what to make of the red, green, and yellow lights that seemed to change with an infuriating randomness.

 

“What was that like?”  She breathed, her curiosity swelling at his mention of University.  Witches and wizards studied under various masters, but attending University was exceedingly rare in her world.

 

She pressed her nails into her palm as he took another corner at what seemed to be a much too fast pace.

 

“Oh, it was terrifying at first but was easy to grasp once I figured out the pedals and how to shift gears.  It’s somewhat like riding a broom actually”, he mused as he reduced the speed of the car to slide into a parking space along the street. 

 

Pansy narrowed her eyes in confusion and until the realization over took her and she let out a girlish giggle.  “No you prat, your experience at university.”

 

He smirked at her with a wink and a quirk of his brow as they exited the car and made their way to the small, Italian restaurant across the street.  He placed his hand at the small of her back as he opened the door for her.

 

“Reservation for Moore, party of two.”  He told the teenage girl who was stood behind a podium. Pansy chuckled inwardly, noting the girl’s cheeks were slightly flushed. it had been years since she had seen a young woman fawn over her friend.  He clearly still had that Malfoy charm.

 

“Yes, sir.  Ellen will show you to your table.”  She handed a set of menus to a nearby server and smiled almost dreamily at Draco.

 

“Thank you, Elizabeth.  How is your father?”  He said, a look of concern crossing his eyes, but he didn’t drop his smile. Pansy’s curiosity was piqued as he regarded the young girl with a distinct familiarity.

 

“He’s doing much better, Dr. Moore.  He has an appointment with Dr. Robles next week to check a few things.  Dr. Robles said he was progressing well at dad’s appointment last week.”  

 

“I’m glad to hear it.  Tell your mother I said hello.”  He flashed the girl a charming smile and her intake of breath and the flush that rose to her cheeks was not lost on Pansy.

 

The pair followed the waitress to their table with Draco pulling the chair out for Pansy before taking a seat across from her.  She eyed him curiously while he informed the waitress to bring a bottle of a Spanish Grenache she’d never heard of it.  Knowing Draco’s tastes from before his abscondence, it was likely rare and expensive. 

 

“You’re staring, Pansy.”  He chided with a low chuckle.  “You may as well tell me what you’ve deduced so far so I can either confirm or deny those assumptions that are spinning around in that pretty brain of yours.”

 

Damn the man to Hades.  How could he possibly know what was spinning around in her head even after ten years of no contact?  She certainly hadn’t been lost on the fact that the pert little brunette behind the podium had called him doctor.  Pansy knew that meant he was some sort of muggle healer but she lacked the specifics on exactly what was entailed in that profession. That _doctor_ word was coming up quite a lot lately what with the dinner Potter had planned tomorrow with Hermione and _her_ muggle doctor whatever he was. 

 

Pansy narrowed her eyes at Draco with a mild suspicion and briefly reviewed the facts she had gathered.  Surely there wasn’t a connection between Granger and Draco, the fact that the word _doctor_ had come up must have been some kind of weird coincidence.  Maybe doctors were a very common profession in the muggle world.   Pansy ultimately decided that pushing the thoughts of the eerie coincidence temporarily into a tidy corner in the back of her mind was the best course of action before turning her attentions back to Draco.

 

“You haven’t forgotten a single lesson Narcissa instilled upon you given your impeccable manners.  The way you walk tells me your wand is likely stashed in your front, right pocket, though your gait is slightly awkward which also tells me you don’t routinely carry it with you.  You said yourself you learned to operate a vehicle whilst you were at university and given the fact that that blushing teenager called you _doctor_ , you are employed as some sort of muggle healer.  You’re just as nervous about our meeting as I am because you don’t know what to expect and you’ve attempted to throw up that wall of indifference you’re so fond of.” 

 

“Very good, Parkinson.” Draco drawled as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, entwining his fingers together giving her a sly smile.  Her Slytherin cunning and observational instincts had certainly served her well.  She was rather proud of her abilities to read him even after ten years.

 

“I’m deputy-head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for a reason, Draco.”  She said with a smirk and a bit too much pride lacing her voice, a smug smile adoring her pouty lips. 

 

“Is that how you found me?”  He said as the waitress approached the table, giving Draco a moment to approve the bottle before pouring them each a glass.

 

Pansy sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, holding her glass of wine.  “In a way, it was really a coincidence, though.  I was working a case with Potter when I left to get coffee and ran into you.”  It wasn’t a complete lie.  She had been with _a_ Potter, just Ginny, not Harry.

 

“That’s a hell of a coincidence, Pansy.” He confirmed with a shrug of his shoulders and a wry smile. “Does Potter know?”

 

Pansy swallowed the wine, carefully replacing the glass on the table.  She reached into her pocket and slid the letter across the table, a small amount of color draining from her face.  She knew the moment she did it, Draco would recognize the handwriting.  “Yes, and so does your mother.” 

 

Draco stared at the letter on the table with an expression shifting faster than the crack of apparition to something between intrigue and anger.  “You told my mother?”  He asked through clenched teeth.

 

“I had no choice.  She damn near made me make an Unbreakable Vow after you disappeared.”  Pansy pleaded, releasing the breath she had been holding.  “She’s been worried sick about you Draco and your father isn’t doing well.”

 

He stared at her throw a pair of dangerously narrowed slits.  “You had no right to inform my mother.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Draco, but it’s done. I’ve given you the letter like I promised Narcissa I would, but it’s your choice what you do with it.” 

 

Draco picked the letter up off of the table, folded it carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his trousers. He culled the anger that was threatening to boil up in his chest and decidedly changed the subject wishing he had ordered a whiskey instead of wine.

 

“What case were you working on?” He asked with a feigned interest.  Anything was better than talking about his mother and letting his latent anger at Pansy’s actions fester.

 

“Oh.  Hermione Granger disappeared not long after you did and we were attempting to follow up on a lead regarding her disappearance.”  The casual manner in which she gave him the information unsettled him and the questions that rose to his mind from his awkward meeting with Potter and Maya in the café started to come to his mind again.

 

“What do you mean she disappeared?”  He asked almost too quickly, though he hoped Pansy was too distracted by the wine to notice.

 

Pansy sighed and started drumming her fingernails absently on the table.  “About ten years ago, she told Potter she was leaving.  He blew her off and assumed she would be back in a week or two after she had calmed down, but she never came back.”

 

“What was _her_ reasoning?” Draco pressed, pouring himself another glass of wine and trying to pass of his interest in the witch as nothing more than a way to make conversation.

 

“The press pursued them all relentlessly – “

 

“Them?” He interrupted.

 

“The Golden Trio. Harry, Ron, and Hermione.”  Pansy quickly clarified.  The fact that Pansy had referred to the three of them by their first names made him more than a little curious. 

 

“Anyway, Hermione was slaughtered in the papers and she was pursued relentlessly by the gossip hounds for months following the end of the war.  If she ate porridge with cinnamon for breakfast, the entire country knew about it by midday.  Rita Skeeter certainly had it in for her because Harry and Ron weren’t pursued nearly as incessantly. 

 

Pansy frowned, picking up and absently swirling the dark cherry liquid in her wine glass before continuing. 

 

“From what Harry and Ron have said, she just couldn’t handle the press and decided to just leave our world.  It’s unfortunate as she could’ve done so much good.  From what they’ve told me, and what I remember at the time, she had risen fairly high in the Ministry before the left.”

 

Well, that certainly answered several of his questions about what Hermione Granger was doing in muggle London and how comfortable she had seemed over the past several months.  If she had truly been living amongst the muggles for ten years, much like he had, he wasn’t surprised that her flat didn’t show any signs of her wizarding past, especially if she had actually turned her back on her friends.  Potter and Weasley were always a bit thick about things, though he was surprised she would forsake them so quickly.

 

“Have you had any leads on Granger’s case?” Her surname felt strange rolling off of his tongue after so many years, but it almost felt comforting. He had decided to keep the knowledge of Maya’s identify to himself for the moment while he attempted to determine what the best course of action concerning the witch was.

 

It was a comfort to know that Hermione had also felt the pressures of their world and had wanted to escape them as well.  He was almost certain that had they both stayed their paths would never have crossed and he wouldn’t be blissfully happy, even if she was hiding behind an alias… but then again, so was he.   

 

“Harry made contact with her earlier this week.” Pansy confirmed with a nod.  “From what he says, she looks pretty good and she says she’s happy.  Potter invited her to dinner and she’s bringing her muggle boyfriend.” 

 

He didn’t miss her shrewd glare when she uttered her next sentence.  “He’s a doctor.”  

 

Draco almost spit out his wine, but he caught himself before he gave himself away and managed to shrug with a feigned indifference. Pansy was bloody brilliant but he was certain she hadn’t figured it out… at least not yet.  He did feel some small sense of relief to know that Hermione and Pansy weren’t in some kind of strange partnership to locate him.  That thought now seemed utterly absurd.

 

Draco was saved from making a response when the waitress returned to take their order after which he promptly changed the subject again.  “How do you find being an auror?” he asked, knowing that turning the conversation back to Pansy’s life would save him from possibly saying more than he wanted to.

 

Her pride was showing on her face again as she gushed about her job.  “I honestly love it and I’m a damn good one, too.  I don’t do fieldwork much anymore, but I’m well respected in the field and Potter trusts me.”  The thought of Pansy and Potter being chummy was probably one of the stranger revelations she had made that evening. 

 

“So you work with Potter, yeah?”

 

“For the better part of the past ten years, yes.”

 

“Is he still the same great git we knew in school?”  Draco could help but smirk as he popped a bite of his entrée into his mouth.

 

“Harry’s a good friend and he’s quite different from the kid we knew back in school.  He’s still a bit rash and moody at times, but he’s a brilliant auror.  If you two ever meet, I think you might actually get along.”

 

Draco snorted a laugh.  “I can’t even imagine a scenario where we’re in the same room together.”  Inwardly, he knew exactly how soon they’d been in a room together.  In fact, they already had been.

 

“I mean it, Draco.” Pansy whined a bit petulantly.  “I really think you two would be friends.”

 

They finished their meal with companionable banter making small talk about how their lives had been to this point.  Pansy had yet to confide in Draco about Ron and he’d steered clear of speaking about his relationship with Maya.  They separated after leaving the restaurant with Pansy ducking into a nearby alley to apparate home while Draco slid into the front seat of his car. The roar of the engine relaxed him and relished in the silence as he drove home.  It had been a very eventful day and he had some decisions to make about how to deal with his mother.

 

When he arrived at his home, Hermione was waiting inside sitting on his couch looking somewhat disheveled.  Her normally sleek hair was somewhat wavy and mildly frizzy, her clothes were slightly wrinkled, and she was wringing her hands together. 

 

He didn’t give a thought to how she had entered his home, even though he hadn’t given her a key.

 

“Hey you,” he said, pressing his lips to the top of her head before taking a seat next to her on the sofa, placing his hand over hers in an effort to calm her writhing fingers. 

 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow, love. Is everything okay?”  He kept his voice calm and level as she turned to face him, her doe like eyes as wide as saucers.

 

“Drake…” She almost trembled as his name rolled off of her lips.  “We, um… there’s something I need to talk to you about.” 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Drake…” She almost trembled as his name rolled off of her lips.  “We, um… there’s something I need to talk to you about.” 

 

Those nine words were very common in the English language and were fairly innocuous on their own, but when they were combined just so, it sent Draco’s mind reeling and every negative possibility imaginable. When a person says that “there’s something I need to talk to you about” it’s almost never a good _something_ , especially when the phrase is said by a woman who looks horribly nervous and that was exactly how Hermione looked as she sat on his sofa.

 

Draco gave her hand a squeeze though whether it was to calm her nerves or his own, he wasn’t sure.  “You know you can talk to me about anything.”  He said, forcing himself to remain calm so the mild flutter of panic that had settled in his chest wouldn’t outwardly show.  He wasn’t entirely sure what she was about to say, but a dozen possibilities rattled through his mind. 

 

She couldn’t be pregnant, at least not by him.  They hadn’t taken that step yet and he didn’t take her for the cheating type given how happy they’d been since January.  On that same note, she probably was not ending their relationship.  She avoided the topic of her family, so maybe it had something to do with that?  Of course, it could be related to work since he knew she had applied for an administrative position, but that didn’t warrant the use of those nine pesky words.  Potter saying something upsetting was another possibility, but when he had left them alone together the other day they were chatting rather amicably.  It simply didn’t matter that Draco had sworn off most magic for the past ten years, if Potter did something to hurt his girlfriend he would find himself at the end of a particularly nasty hex. 

_Potter.  Hexes.  Magic. The Statute of Secrecy._  

 

_Shit._

 

There it was. She didn’t know he knew about her use of an alias…

 

If she was about the break the Statute, it must mean she had deeper feelings for him.  There was no way she would risk him possibly being obliviated if she felt otherwise.  After all, she did still think he was a muggle.

 

“Drake, there’s something I need to tell you… about me.  Please promise you won’t interrupt until I’ve had a chance to say everything.  After that, I’ll answer any questions you have.” 

 

“I promise.” He said, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze, desperately wishing he could calm any fears she might have. 

 

She took a deep breath, but continued to avoid his eye contact, preferring to keep her eyes on their joined hands.

 

“On the day I turned eleven years old, I received a letter that confirmed that I was a witch and that magic is real.”  She withdrew one of her hands from underneath his and reached next to her, drawing her wand. Given that a normal muggle would’ve been thoroughly shocked as the prospect of magic being a reality, a demonstration was in order.

 

“ _Avis_.” She said with an elaborate flourish of her wand.  A small flock of canaries appeared above their heads twittering away causing Draco to smile as he watched them flit around his living room. Granger had always been more than proficient in transfiguration and this feat was no small bit of magic.  He’d half expected something simple like a _Lumos_ or a _Wingardium Leviosa…_ but of course Granger had outdone herself.  

 

“ _Finite_.”  She murmured, causing the canaries to disappear, their chirps fading into silence. 

 

“I attended a special school in Scotland and was trained in magic. There was a war in my world and I played a big part in the defeat of the person who started the war.  After the war finished, people in our world became…” she paused, “well, I guess obsessed is the right word… became obsessed with me and my friends who were also involved.  We were constantly followed by the press and it ultimately led to my decision to leave a world I loved and forsake my own gifts.” 

  
Draco could see how difficult this confession was for her, but had promised not to interrupt so he simply wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest.  The information he had gleaned from Pansy was proving to be correct and he was thankful for the confirmation.

 

“So, I ran away from everything.  I changed my name, went to university for my teaching degree, and have been living in this world for the past ten years.  Everything was going swimmingly until Harry showed up and reminded me of how much I missed my friends… and even my magic.”  She smiled a bit as she turned her wand over in her hands.

 

It didn’t last very long because Draco could feel her tense against his chest as he stroked her hair.  “I know this is… a lot… and it’s probably an awful shock, and I understand you might be angry with me.  But I needed to tell you because I … I think we could have a future together.”

 

Those seven words were also fairly common the English language and there were even a few commonalities between the previous nine words, but when they were combined just so they managed to have the exact opposite effect on Draco than the previous nine words that had begun this conversation.

 

A future.  She wanted _a future_ with him which meant she was thinking towards something more permanent and they had only been together for about four months.  It had been a completely blissful four months, but was that really enough time to know that you wanted to _have a future_ with someone?

 

Ignoring his mind which was still protesting about the length of time, Draco spoke from his heart. “I want a future with you, _Hermione._ ”  He said quietly as she issued a silent prayer that the use of her given name, without her revealing it, wasn’t going to backfire horribly.

 

He thought he felt one of his ribs crack as she pushed off of him and scrambled into the opposite corner of the couch staring at him with wide eyes.  Whatever reaction she had been expecting from him, it wasn’t that one.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Granger.” He moaned, falling into old habits as he rubbed the sore spot along his abdomen from her rapid departure.

 

“I never told you my name.”  She said cautiously.  Her eyes were as wide as saucers and she was staring at him as if he had just kicked her cat.  Not to mention, she either was ignoring the fact he had accidentally called her by her surname or she hadn’t noticed.  Draco wasn’t quite sure which one it was but he kind of hoped she hadn’t noticed his slip.

 

“No, you didn’t.” He said, still rubbing the tender spot, a sense of doubt starting to creep in to his thoughts once more. “And absolutely nothing you’ve said changes how I feel about you.”  He continued as he shifted closer to her, taking her hands in his once more.

 

“But, your feelings may change once you learn my story, Hermione.” He said quietly. Having only ever referred to her by her surname or her alias, the taste and feel of her given name upon his lips felt odd, but not necessarily bad.

 

In an act that completely caught him by surprised, his witch leaned against him and settled herself against her chest as she had done so many times before.  Her features softened and her voice carried an air of sincerity as she spoke, though a thread of emotional exhaustion was also present throughout her words.

 

“I apologize for my reaction, but you must understand how surprised I was.  Between Harry showing up and making the decision to tell you everything… I tried to anticipate your reaction, but I don’t think I ever could have anticipated… this… you knowing, I mean.”

 

“Tell me about it”, he mumbled, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head, almost certain her reaction would be ten times worse by the time he finished.  

 

“I know you’ll have a thousand questions, you always do…” He smiled against her hair. “But can you give me the same courtesy I gave you?”

 

 

Hermione nuzzled her head against his chest, using the steady thrum of his heartbeat to anchor herself as she leveled her breathing.  His use of her given name had thoroughly startled her and she felt that sharp pang of fear until she looked into his eyes and saw nothing but his regard for her.  How could she be fearful of someone she cared so deeply for, who she knew cared for her?

 

She was nearly certain that whatever he told her wouldn’t change her mind in the slightest.  It didn’t matter that he knew her real name, what mattered is that he knew her and she knew him.

 

She nearly stopped him before he started to tell him that, but the curiosity over needing to know whatever his story was practically eating her alive.  If there was a chance to learn something, she was absolutely going to take it.  Her thirst for knowledge had always proved to be insatiable, after all.

 

“I won’t interrupt, I promise.” 

 

Draco shifted them so he was leaning against one of the arm rests on the sofa and pulled his wand from his pocket.  With a murmured incantation, he dropped the charms that altered his appearance and concealed his very faded, but still visible, Dark Mark. 

 

To Hermione’s credit, she kept her head firmly on his chest and didn’t look at him, though she was fully aware of the whispered incantation and what it meant.  A glamour, several in fact.  The moment his wand dropped into view she knew exactly who she had been dating for the past four months.  With her promise to allow him to finish his tale without interruption, she simply listened to the sound of his voice with one ear while she heard and felt his heartbeat with the other.  

 

“You and I… we… have a very tenuous history, to put it lightly.  We fought on opposite sides during the war, though my involvement was not exactly by choice, but it doesn’t change the fact that we were… enemies.” 

 

He flinched at the word and pulled his arms around her just a bit tighter as if she would immediately pry herself from his grasp when she realized exactly what he was saying.

 

“After the war, I just… I couldn’t stay.  There was no future for me in our world given my family’s involvement in the war and their connection to the Dark Lord.  I made the decision to disappear and I was doing a great job of it until Parkinson spotted me last week in our coffee shop.  You already know the rest of the story – my time at university, my residency, my profession… and the rest of it.” 

 

Hermione realized they never really talked about anything before the years they attended university and the reason why suddenly made perfect sense.  The _before_ wouldn’t have been appropriate to have shared with someone who you thought was a muggle.

 

“Then, just a few days after I ran into Parkinson, you introduced me to Potter and that’s when I made the connection between who you are… and who you were.  I felt a little stupid because it really took me longer than it should have, but I knew before I left for work that day.”  He sighed, fully expecting her rejection to come at any moment.

 

“I’ve given our current circumstances as well as our past a considerable amount of thought over the past few days, Hermione.  I love you and I understand if this changes everything, but I –“

 

“You love me?” she interrupted, pushing off of his chest again, though not quite as hard as before so her honeyed eyes could meet his silver orbs.

 

Nothing else seemed to matter after he uttered those three words.  In truth, it was somewhat disconcerting to see her brown haired, blue eyed doctor suddenly with a shock of blonde hair and piecing gray eyes, but the man inside was what truly mattered.  His endless compassion, his wit, warmth and temerity, as well as his affectionate nature made him who he was, not the color of his eyes or the shade of his hair. 

 

What truly mattered was the man he had become and the fact that he just confessed his love for her.

 

Draco had expected an interruption saying absolutely anything other than those three words.  It threw him off balance that he stumbled of his words, “I… um… I…”  but when he looked into her eyes and saw nothing but the depths of her affection, it instantly grounded him and he found his confidence. 

 

“Yes, Hermione.  I love you.”

 

Without breaking his gaze, Hermione straddled his lap and took his face into her hands, both witch and wizard breathing scattered, anticipatory breaths.  Her eyes fluttered closed the moment she brought her face to his in a frenzied, frantic, desperate kiss.  His tongue probed the seam of her lips and she opened readily, even as his hand caressed the curve of her neck.  The joining of this lips was laced with raw emotion; it was desperate, apologetic, affectionate, passionate, and perfect. 

 

When it ended, with lazy, slow kisses and gentle nips and nibbles, both witch and wizard were left breathless as her forehead dropped against his.

 

“I love you too, Draco.”

 

……….

 

As they lay together tangled in the satin sheets of Draco’s bed, Draco traced protective runes along the curve of Hermione’s hip to the dip of her abdomen, as he lazily peppered kisses across her shoulder blade. 

 

Brushing her hair off of her neck, Draco nuzzled the sensitive skin along the curve of her neck.  “What happened to your curls?”

 

“A good stylist, a spell or two, and quite a bit of money,” Hermione replied with a snicker, as she stretched languidly, much like a cat in a patch of sunshine.  “I miss them some days, but this is much more manageable.”

 

Draco nipped at the point where her neck met her shoulders.  “I wouldn’t mind it if they made a comeback.”  He said, wondering if after so many years they would still be frizzy and wild or if they would fall into perfect corkscrews down the length of her back, should she choose to grow her hair out again.

 

After turning over to face him, Hermione ran her fingers through Draco’s silky, blonde locks, causing the wizard to nearly purr like a kitten as her nails lightly scratched at his scalp. 

 

“This will take some getting used to,” she teased as she nuzzled her nose against his, “but you still look like you, and for that, I’m very grateful.”

 

A great bubbling feeling of contentment welled up in his chest as he wrapped his arms around his witch and kissed her lips simply because he could.  His younger self would’ve balked at the prospect of taking the girl with frizzy curls and large teeth into his bed, but he couldn’t imagine anyone else he would want to be wrapped around, protecting and loving. 

 

“I think I’ll keep the glamor on in public for a while and slowly transition it over to my natural colors.  Sanderson will absolutely hate it.” He muttered, dropping his head against the curve of Hermione’s chest, pinning her to the bed.

 

With a giggle, Hermione donned to best impression of the older and exceedingly conservative doctor whom she had previously met.  “Now, now Dr. Moore.  I’ve put up with many things in my years, like you dating that hussy who shows entirely too much skin, but what in the devil possessed you to change your hair to such an unnatural shade, son?  I think it best you come to church with me and the missus on Sunday next and pray on your life choices.”

 

Draco firmly wrapped his arms around Hermione as she carded the tips of her fingers through his hair, laughing exuberantly.  “Spot on, love.  Every single time I mention we’re going out or I get that smile on my face from getting one of your texts, he has to bring it back around on your apparent loose morals.”

 

“You get a smile on your face when I text you?” Hermione beamed with a teasing smile.

 

Draco, whose ears began turn a soft shade of pink even as his neck and cheeks grew warm, couldn’t help but gently take Hermione’s face in his hands before pressing a kiss to her lips.  “Of course, I do.”  

 

She playfully nipped at his bottom lip before suddenly jerking back with a look of horror on her face.  A hand flew up to cover her mouth as she shifted into a sitting position. “Oh, shit,” she cursed.

 

Draco propped himself up on one of his elbows and looked up at the witch who was now worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, a look of concern crossing his features.  “Granger?”

 

“Dinner.  With Harry… _Tomorrow_!”  The witch was clearly flustered that she couldn’t form a coherent sentence as she rifled her fingers through her hair, clutching and the mahogany locks close to her scalp.

 

Draco let himself fall back into the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face.  While the dinner he was having with Hermione’s friends had been on his mind earlier in the evening while he was meeting with Pansy, it had completely slipped his mind after Hermione had shown up on his couch to tell him she was in fact a witch. 

 

“Damnit.”  Draco swore with a groan as several possible ways out of the dinner flitted through his mind.  The only one that seemed reasonable was the one he presented to his witch.

 

“I can pretend that I was called in for an emergency survey – that’s really not out of the realm of possibility.  I’m nearly certain I know how your friends will react when we show up with you on my arm instead of with your brown-hair, blue-eyed boyfriend.”  

 

The fact that he used to work “when” rather than “if” was not lost on Hermione.  It was inevitable that would have to spend time with her friends and a rather devious idea suddenly barreled its way through all of the other thoughts currently swirling through her subconscious.

 

 “Draco, what if we have a bit of fun with them?” 

 

“Come again?”  With the impish grin she was currently sporting, Hermione reminded him entirely too much of his mother and he suddenly wondered if she had been wrongly sorted at age eleven. 

 

He would have to deal with his mother soon enough.  It was best to push that thought from his mind at the moment.

 

Her eyes darted delight as she revealed her plan.  “What if… we continue to pretend to be muggles?”

 

Draco stared at her incredulously. 

 

“Of course, since they’re my friends, they’ll all know that I’m not but they will still think that you are simply Dr. Moore, muggle general surgeon.  I didn’t tell Harry that I intended to break the _Statute_ so they’ll really be none the wiser.  I’ve already told him to ensure they use my alias since that’s who you know me as.”

 

Was this beautiful, brilliant witch really offering him the chance to have a bit of fun with Potter and Weasley before revealing the ruse? He certainly wasn’t above a bit of petty revenge on them for stalking his girlfriend for several weeks and the fact that she was suggesting it made him love her all the more.

 

“Are you certain you weren’t meant to be sorted into Slytherin?”

 

“No, love.  I’m a Gryffindor through and through.  We highly value loyalty.”  She laughed, high and clear.  “It was weeks before Harry worked up the courage to even speak to me, despite spying on my every day.”

 

“What do you propose, my lovely lioness?” Draco pulled her down into his arms and nipped playfully along the curve of her shoulder.

 

“We assume the roles we do every day, simply being Drake and Maya and once they’re as thoroughly smitten with you as I am, you can nonchalantly grab a broom and invite everyone outside for a game of Quidditch.” 

 

Hermione turned around in his arms and Draco pressed his lips to the bridge of her nose.  “Have I ever told you how entirely perfect you are?”

 

“No, but I’ll happily accept a well-researched thesis on the subject.”

 

“Cheeky witch,” Draco chided as he playfully slapped her on the behind.

 

……….

 

Having finished her dinner with Draco, Pansy immediately apparated to Number 12 Grimmauld Place where she had expected to find Harry.  Instead, she found herself sitting across from her future sister in law with a half-full glass of white wine in her hand.

 

“How did your dinner with Malfoy go?”  Ginny asked, swirling the Reisling around the bell of the glass.

 

“I felt like it went well in general, but I can’t quite shake the feeling that that there’s something I’m missing… something he was intentionally avoiding.” Pansy said with a pensive frown. “It’ll come to me, I’m sure.” 

 

She shrugged her shoulders and took a drink of the sweet wine before continuing.  “He was completely miserable for years and to see him so content now, living as a muggle of all things, it makes me happy that he’s finally found some peace.”  Pansy wasn’t certain if Ginny would take her words at face value, especially Draco’s involvement in the war, though she was certain the other witch knew it was a reluctant involvement at best.  Good riddance to the beliefs of the previous generation.

 

“Harry said that the pair of you were close. I don’t remember much about him from school, but Ron always had his… opinions.”  Ginny said with a bit of a smirk. “Though he was entirely too vocal about them, if you ask me.”

 

Pansy laughed, knowing full well the extent of Ron’s opinions of her best friend.  “If your brother loves me like he says he does, he’ll shove those opinions right up his own arse.  I’m going to see to it that Draco doesn’t disappear on me ever again, even if it means a few more trips into muggle London.” 

 

“You can invite him to dinner tomorrow, if you’d like.”  Ginny offered with a sincere smile. While Pansy had been the only snake fully ingratiated into in their pride of lions for several years now, she had brought around a few of her friends from time to time.  Ginny even had a standing spa date with the Greengrass sisters a few times per year, thanks to Pansy’s introductions.  If Pansy thought Draco was a good person, who was she to judge?

 

Pansy shook her head.  “Thank you, but I’m not certain he would be ready to meet the family, so to speak.  We did speak a bit about Harry, but I managed to not divulge my relationship with Ron to him.  I think I’ll need a bit of rum in my system before I spring Ron on Draco.”  Pansy was dreading that conversation given how much vitriol both Ron and Draco had spewed about each other in the past.  How many hours had she sat with Draco in the common room while he was idly berating the majority of the Golden Trio?

 

Ginny grinned widely at her future sister-in-law and poured her another glass of wine.  “I completely understand. Whenever you do decide to invite him over, I’ll make sure the liquor cabinet is fully stocked.”  Ginny winked.

 

“I appreciate it.” Pansy said with a nod.  “Are my nephews asleep?” She asked, realizing the house was quiet. 

 

“I sure hope so.”  Ginny rolled her eyes and took a large drink of the wine before topping off her own glass.  It had apparently not been a one glass of wine kind of a day. “They absolutely ran me ragged today.  With Albus teething and James asking a million questions every two minutes, I’m absolutely spent.  At least one of them can pee in the toilet, so I’m not complete buried in nappies. Thank goodness they’ll be with mum and dad tomorrow while we’re having dinner.” 

 

“Oh, that reminds me,” Pansy said with a wave of her hand.  “I will be a little late to dinner.”

 

“Wanting to make a grand entrance, are you?”  Ginny teased.

 

Pansy practically snorted a laugh, though she shook her head.  “Unfortunately, no, though I do love a good fashionably late entrance as does every pureblood witch,” She teased right back, knowing full well Ginny’s family were pureblooded, not that the majority of the old guard acknowledged the Weasleys.  Just a few years ago they had cast off as blood traitors. “No, Davenport and Steele are working are working a really tough case and I’m helping them question one of the witnesses tomorrow.”

 

“Not a problem.”  Ginny shrugged. “Harry told me that he and Hermione discussed you and your relationship with Ron the other day.”   

 

“Oh good.”  Pansy felt thankful that Harry had thought ahead, having been nervous about simply showing up to dinner on Ron’s arm.  She could only imagine what kind of reaction the witch might have had no one thought to inform her.

 

“I haven’t been able to talk to Harry about it, yet. Do you know how it went with Granger?”  Pansy asked hoping that her future sister-in-law would be able to satisfy her curiosity.

 

Ginny briefly recounted what Harry had told her about the meeting he had had with Hermione as she sipped her wine.  “He said it went well overall.  He managed to meet her boyfriend, that muggle doctor I told you about, and they made small talk after he invited both of the to dinner.  After the muggle left, Hermione exploded just like he expected and then they spent the rest of the afternoon catching up like they hadn’t been apart for the last ten years.”

 

“That’s great news.”  Pansy said, giving the redhead a devious smile. “Since she’s bringing her boyfriend to dinner, I can finally see that handsome muggle doctor you mentioned.  I was a little sad that I missed seeing them that day we attempted to trail her, but I still managed to run into Draco so it wasn’t all bad.”

 

“You make it sound like I’m pining after the man!”  Ginny exclaimed with a giggle and a roll of her eyes. “This dinner is going to be interesting though.  Harry said we can’t use magic since he’s a muggle.” 

 

“Granger didn’t break the Statute?” Pansy asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Nope.” Ginny confirmed.  “So, we get to pretend to be muggles tomorrow.  I could almost throttle my husband for inviting the both of them.  How on earth do you pretend to be a muggle, especially over a dinner that requires conversation?  What in Merlin’s name will we talk about?” 

 

“Well… I guess there is a use for that Muggle Studies class after all.”  Pansy quipped with a little laugh.  While she was looking forward to finally meeting Hermione properly, the thought of acting like a muggle for several hours turned her stomach a bit.  

 

She thought about owling Draco for some tips but decided against it.  How hard could it really be?

 


	8. Chapter 8

“How do I look, _Maya?”_   Draco said with a chuckle as he attempted to knot his tie.  He had replaced the appearance charms and was back to looking exactly as he had for the past ten years and he found it mildly comforting to find Drake Moore staring back at him when he looked in the mirror.

 

Hermione grabbed him by the forearm and stroked the spot where his Dark Mark was concealed with her thumb. Since he dropped the charms the night before, she had been fascinated with it, having never seen one up close before.  It was faded, but the outline of the skull and snake were still visible.  She never viewed it with disgust or contempt as he suspected she would.  She simply wanted to study it and every now and again, he would find her running her fingers over the spot.  Draco desperately wanted to know what she was thinking in those moments, but she didn’t share and he didn’t ask.  

 

With her other hand, she stilled his fingers before he completed the knot.  “I think the tie is too much, _Drake_.”  She slid the tie from under his collar, running the silk through her fingertips. 

 

They laughed in unison before Draco swooped in and planted a kiss on her cheek.  Even after just one passion filled night, the sound of surnames and aliases didn’t quite elicit the same feelings as before. Hermione did get a bit of a shiver up her spine whenever Draco slipped and called her _Granger_ , but they were using their given names before either had realized what had happened.

 

“We’re just going to over to Harry’s for dinner.  I’m sure it will be pretty casual.”  Hermione said, wandering into her closet to select a pair of shoes.

 

Draco rolled the sleeves of his white button down to his elbows. “Do you know who all will be there?”

 

Hermione picked up a pair of navy blue heels and held them up in front of the tea length indigo dress she was wearing and frowned.  “I think it’s just Harry, Ginny, and Ron.”  She said, putting the heels back and selecting a pair of black ones instead, slipping them onto her feet. 

 

“Well won’t this be fun.” Draco drawled with a roll of his eyes as Hermione exited her closet. 

 

Hermione gave him a smirk as she checked her appearance in the mirror. “It will be fun, and much easier for us than with them.  We’ve had ten years of solid practice and I’m willing to bet the most they’ve had is that awful Muggle Studies class and maybe a few dinners in muggle London.”

 

Wrapping his arms around her from behind, Draco rested his chin on her shoulder.  “You look stunning, Hermione.” 

 

“Maya,” she corrected absently as a flush rose to her cheeks at his compliment.

 

“I won’t slip up while we’re at dinner, my sweet.  I’ll be too busy getting a bit of revenge on Potty and Weaslebee.” He said, finding a juvenile pleasure in reverting to using the nicknames he had coined from their days at Hogwarts.

 

“Draco…”  Hermione warned with a frown. 

 

“Drake”, he corrected with a cheeky grin and a kiss to her temple.  “Hogwarts was a long time ago.  I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

 

“I won’t deny you a bit of fun, but don’t get carried away.” Hermione laughed, leaning into him before glancing at the clock near her bed and checking the time.  “We’d better get going since we’ll need to drive.”

 

“Let me grab my keys and we can go,” He said, reluctantly slipping his arms from around her and sauntering out of her bedroom.

 

……….

 

Harry, Ginny, and Ron were sat around the living room at number 12 Grimmauld Place with the smell of the dinner Ginny had started wafting through the air from the kitchen.  Harry wore a worried expression whereas Ginny and Ron wore nearly identical annoyed expression as the former quizzed them for what seemed to be the fifth time in the past two hours. It was getting exceedingly old and the Weasley siblings were at their wits end.

 

“Okay.  Remember what we talked about?” Harry said, running his hands through his already messy hair.

 

Ginny sighed with a nod and Ron attempted to not clench his jaw as Harry continued without waiting for confirmation from the two of them. “Pansy and I are officers with the London police department.  Ginny is a stay-at-home mum, and Ron –“

 

“I don’t see why we couldn’t just say I was a sports reporter?” Ginny interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest.  She had retired from her position as Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies and was writing a regular Quidditch column for the Daily Prophet.

 

Ron rolled his eyes at his sister.  “And exactly what muggle sports do you follow?”

 

Ginny smacked her brother on the arm and glared at him, petulantly. “More than you. I’ve seen a few _feet_ ball games with Angelina, thank you very much.”

 

“Football.”  Harry corrected her as he waved a finger at his wife.  “And that’s exactly why you can’t be a sports reporter.  You don’t know nearly enough about muggle sports.  What if he tries to talk about _grasshopper_ or swimming or something?”

 

“There’s a sport named after an insect?”

 

“Apparently.”

 

Ginny just rolled her eyes.

 

“Mine isn’t too hard.  I run the joke shop with my brother George.”  Ron confirmed with a shrug, “I just can’t really go into details about what we sell.  Though I do have a few Puking Pastilles tucked away if this dinner starts to go south.”

 

“Where did we all go to school?”  Harry asked as he continued his tirade of questioning.    

 

“A boarding school in Scotland.” The redheaded siblings said in unison, giving Harry almost identical looks of indignation.

 

“Harry, _Maya_ ,” Ron sneered, “and I were all in the same levels while Ginny was a year below us.  There were no houses rivalries to deal with or anything of the sort.”

 

“We’ve been over this a thousand times, Harry.”  Ginny exclaimed with a frustrated wave of her hands.  She wasn’t wrong. Harry had been prepping them for this dinner for several days after he realized his mistake at inviting Hermione’s muggle boyfriend to dinner as well as her. “Plus, they’ll be here soon.” 

 

As if on cue, there was a polite knock at the door.

 

“There’s always obliviation if this goes the way of the birds.”  Ron muttered under his breath. 

 

Harry eyed the two redheads sitting in the living room as he stood up and giving them both warning looks.  Honestly, obliviation was a viable option if they messed up too much.  Hopefully, Hermione’s boyfriend wouldn’t notice their slip-ups.  He took a deep breath, stepped into the hallway, and opened the rarely used front door with his best, most charming smile.

 

Hermione was the first to cross the threshold, giving Harry a hug and a chaste peck on the cheek.  “Hello Harry”, she said with a smile before he could even mutter a word. 

 

“Maya.”  He grinned, his heard pounding a joyous beat at the sight of his best friend. He was somewhat afraid she was going to back out of dinner, but she had kept to her word.  “Ron and Ginny are in the living room.”  He said as he stuck his hand out to Draco.

 

Hermione squeezed past Harry to move down the hallway towards the living room, leaving Draco and Harry alone in the entry way.

 

“Drake.  Good to see you again.”  Harry said, offering his hand to the tall brunette. 

 

“Likewise, Harry” Draco said with a friendly smile, shaking Harry’s offered hand. “Thank you for inviting us into your home.”

 

When Harry and Draco made it to the living room, Hermione was being squeezed tightly around her middle by Ginny.

 

“Ginny!  I can’t breathe!” Hermione laughed as she gasped for breath, hugging the redhead with at least as much force.  Hermione hadn’t expected to miss her friends this much, but seeing them again immediately cemented the idea that she wouldn’t go without them again.

 

“It’s just been so long H-Maya!” Ginny exclaimed, letting go of Hermione.  “And you look wonderful!  How did you ever get your hair to straighten out?” 

 

As soon as she was free, Ron swooped in and pulled Hermione into a bear hug.

 

“Thanks Ginny.”  Hermione smiled at the redheaded witch before embracing Ron.  “It’s so good to see you, Ron.”  

  
Draco watched the scene with a look of amusement on his face.  He hadn’t seen Potter’s wife or Weasley since Hogwarts, but they still looked remarkably the same as they did when the four of them were in school. The looks of excitement on their faces matched Hermione’s with equal fervor.  Draco had been a bit worried that this meeting wouldn’t go over quite well given what transpired ten years ago, but it seemed like they were picking back up as if no time had passed.

 

“Drake, come here.” Hermione said, beckoning him over after she weaseled her way out of Ron’s embrace.  He crossed the room in a few short strides and stood next to her as she placed a hand on Ginny’s back and pushed her forward slightly.  “Drake Moore, may I present Ginny Potter, Harry’s wife.”

 

Draco flashed the redheaded witch a charming smile with an incline of his head.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ginny.”  Years of pureblood protocol dictated he should’ve taken her hand in his and kissed it, but he opted to forgo that and shook her hand instead.

 

“And this is Ron Weasley, Ginny’s brother.”  Hermione said, motioning to the tall redheaded male who was standing on her other side. 

 

“Ron.”  Draco said as he shook his school yard rival’s hand.  To his surprise, Weasley’s handshake was firm and his greeting was warm and friendly.  He had half expected to be recognized by any of the three of them, much as Pansy had recognized him, but it was clear his disguise was effective.  There were none the wiser that he was their old schoolyard nemesis and for that, at least for the moment, he was thankful.

 

“Can I get you a drink, Drake?”  Harry asked.  “We’ve got beer, whiskey, wine…”

 

“I’ll take a whiskey for now, but I’ll probably switch to wine or water thereafter.  I have an early morning tomorrow at the hospital.”  Draco said as he and Hermione took a seat on one of the sofas in the living room.

 

Harry nodded and went off to the kitchen just as Ginny was returning with glasses of wine for herself and Hermione.  “Harry mentioned you’re a doctor, yes?”  Ginny said, handing the wine glass to Hermione before settling down into an armchair in the living room. 

 

“I’m a general surgeon at the moment, but I’m thinking about going back to school to specialize in pediatric neuropsychology.”  Draco replied, honestly.   

 

It was clear that the ginger-haired siblings had no idea what several of those words meant. Ginny and Ron just stared blankly at Draco for several moments before Ginny attempted to recover the conversation.  “How interesting.  What does that entail?”  Ginny took a drink of wine.  Yes, she was definitely going to need more wine to make it through this evening. 

 

Draco inwardly smirked as he calmly sipped the whiskey Harry had placed in his hand. “I mostly do appendectomies or laparoscopic cholecystectomies, though occasionally I do work as part of the cardiac team.”  He said with confidence knowing that the only person in this room who likely had any idea of what he was talking about was Hermione.

 

Hermione elbowed Draco in the ribs after she saw the looks of confusion cross her friends’ faces. “What Drake means to say is that he removes people’s appendices or gall bladders when they cease functioning properly and that he assists cardiologists with heart surgery.”  It was a slightly better explanation, but how on earth do you explain the function of an appendix or a gall bladder without giving a full anatomy lesson?  The wizarding world was still woefully lacking in its knowledge of anatomy and physiology to anyone outside of formal healer training.

 

“Blimey,” exclaimed Ron with a shake of his head and a good-hearted chuckle. “You’ve managed to find someone who knows more big words than you do, Maya.” 

 

Hermione gave Draco a knowing smile.  “They used to tease me relentlessly because of how much time I spent in the library, but they never failed to appreciate it when they groveled at my feet to look over their assignments.”  She said with a playful wink.

 

“Yeah, she was almost too busy with her blessed books to come and watch us play Qui…”  Ron caught himself and said just a bit too loudly, “sports!  Watch us play… sports.”  Ron tried to hide the look of horror as he realized his mistake in accidentally introducing the topic of sports.

 

“I played a bit of football when I was at University, but I mostly play golf these days.”  Draco offered with a nod of his head, suppressing the urge to cackle at Weasley’s almost slip. “What sports did you play?”  Draco asked. 

 

Ron knew he was treading into dangerous water, but he had to say something.  He didn’t really know any other muggle sports beyond football.  He knew there was something that used a club similar to a beater’s bat and a ball smaller than a bludger, but he couldn’t remember what it was called. Was that the one named after an insect?  Or was it one of the other sports which had _ball_ in the title?

 

“Uh, football.”  Ron said a bit too hesitantly his cheeks flushing slightly. “I played keeper,” he said, silently praying that that was an actual position in football.

 

Draco nodded, recalling that Weasley had indeed played keeper, just in a different sport.  “I played forward at University, but it was always just a pick-up game on the pitch.  Nothing official.  We should catch a game some time. Who’s your team?”

 

Ron looked to Ginny with pleading eyes.  He couldn’t very well say the Cannons and wasn’t able to hazard a guess at the names of any of the British football teams.

 

Ginny smirked and finished off her glass of wine.  Her minimal knowledge of the game was actually coming in handy.  She would have to thank Angelina later for taking her to see a few games. “Ron prefers Manchester United, but I’m a Chelsea girl.”  

 

“Chelsea’s shaping up to have a good season.”  Draco commented with a nod of his head, impressed that the youngest Weasley knew the names of any league teams.  

 

Ginny waved her hand between Hermione and Draco “How did the two of you meet?” asked, attempting to save everyone from the sports conversation before it couldn’t be recovered which would likely be in less than five sentences.

 

Hermione glanced over at Draco as she spoke with a fond smile.  “I contacted the surgery department and asked for someone to come speak to my class for career day in January.  Drake was the doctor who volunteered and after he finished his presentation, he invited me out for coffee.” 

 

“What subject do you teach, Maya?”  Ron asked, curiously.  He couldn’t possibly imagine what was taught at a muggle school.  Obviously, they didn’t learn anything like transfiguration or charms.  He supposed muggles had to be taught to use the gadgets his father was so fond of.

 

“I don’t teach just one subject, I teach them all to a group of fifth years at a primary school.  We tend to start to the day with language arts which is followed by arithmetic and then there are also courses in science and history.  They’ll start their rotations next school year when they enter sixth year.”  Hermione said with a sip of her wine. 

 

“Maya’s a wonderful teacher.” Draco complimented with a kind smile and a kiss to her temple.  “You can tell her class really loves her.” It was so easy to be complimentary of the woman at his side.  He’d been to visit her at school once or twice and could easily see how much her class adored her.  

 

Hermione blushed a pretty shade of pink, gushing a bit about her chosen profession.  “Teaching is such a rewarding career.  I think I love teaching literature the most.”  She said with a happy sigh.  “What are you doing these days, Ron?” she asked, politely even though she already knew the answer.

 

“Oh.  I’m running the joke shop with George.”  Ron said before turning to Draco to clarify.  “George is one of my brothers.”

 

“That’s wonderful of you, Ron.  I’ll bet George appreciates the help. How is your family?”

 

“Really good.  Mum asked after you after Harry mentioned he ran into you the other day and she’d love for you to come over for dinner.  You know mum, she never misses an opportunity to feed us.”  Both Ginny and Ron laughed at his very accurate assessment of their mother.   

 

“Charlie’s still over in Romania and the… bank” he said vaguely, “sent Bill to Egypt which put Fleur in a tizzy what with her being pregnant for the second time.  Percy is still working for the _gonverment_ and being a general pain in the arse.”

 

“Sounds like you have a large family.” Draco commented, settling his arm around Hermione’s shoulder. 

 

“There’s nine of us all together.” Ron said, “Ten if you count Harry.  Mum practically adopted him as one of us when we boarded the train for the first time.  Helped him find the right platform and shared a compartment.” 

 

Harry chuckled and leaned over the back of the armchair to kiss his wife.  “Well, I did end up marrying into the family.” 

 

Ginny gave him a cheeky smile and shoved him away, standing up.  “I’m going to check on dinner.  It should be ready soon.”  She said, sauntering into the kitchen. 

 

“I’ll go help. Will you be okay here?”  She said, turning her head to Draco with a mischievous smile that was missed by both Harry and Ron.

 

“We’ll be just fine, Maya.”  Draco said.

 

Hermione stood up and followed, leaving the men to continue on with their conversation, silently hoping Draco wouldn’t have too much fun with them, though she was enjoying watching them banter back and forth. She found Ginny with her wand in hand making a pot of mashed potatoes.  “Do you really think that’s wise, Ginny?”  Hermione asked with a laugh as she leaned against a nearby countertop.

 

Milk and butter were magically measured and found their way into the potatoes.  “You left him in there with Ron and Harry.  I figured I was safe for now.” The redheaded witch said with a playful smile. “I’m rubbish at cooking without magic, so if you want this to be edible, you’ll be my look out.”

 

Hermione nodded her ascent with a grin. 

 

“I have to say that I’m impressed with everyone’s efforts to be accommodating to Drake. How did you manage to learn about football?”  Hermione said, watching as Ginny continued to put the finishing touches on dinner.

 

“Angelina and I went to a few games.  She knew one of the players and scored us free tickets.  George was sick the weekend they were supposed to go, so I tagged along.” Ginny said as she pulled the roast from the oven, setting it to carve itself before turning to face Hermione. 

 

“Drake seems like a really great guy, Hermione.  You can really see how much he cares for you.  He looks at you like there’s no one else in the room.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help the thudding her of heart, the beaming smile adoring her lips, or the flush which had risen to her cheeks.  “Thank you.  He makes me so incredibly happy, Gin.  I’m glad he’s making a good impression.  I was a bit worried about Ron to be honest.”

 

Ginny waved her hand as she sent vegetables to chop for a salad.  “Oh, Pansy has seriously helped calm him down.  His temper isn’t half of what it used to be and he’s disgustingly in love with her.  I’ve grown to like her myself.” 

 

Hermione poured some more wine into her glass and then refilled Ginny’s before handing it back to her.  “Harry mentioned that the two of them were together the other day. I’m surprised she’s not here tonight.”

  
“Pansy had something come up at work and told me she would be running a bit late.  I expect she’ll be here soon, though.”  Ginny said, taking the glass of wine from Hermione. 

 

Hermione was forced to hide her shocked expression, though her eyes remained a bit wide.  She assumed that if Pansy wasn’t here that she wouldn’t be coming at all.  Honestly, the witch hadn’t even played into the plans she and Draco had crafted for him to remain anonymous.  Her arrival could completely throw everything off kilter, especially if she recognized Draco. 

 

Unfortunately, Hermione didn’t have to wait very long to see exactly what that reaction would be.

 

“What in the seven hells are _you_ doing here?”  the woman’s voice almost shrieked with a giddy surprise.

 

Hermione rushed out of the kitchen without a backwards glance towards Ginny to see a witch with sleek black hair wearing a modest black dress and heels pointing her finger directly in Draco’s face.  Quickly rounding the corner, Ginny nearly collided with Hermione before she stood next to the witch and watched the scene unfold from the doorway leading into the kitchen.  Ron and Harry were stood back away from the pair, looking at each other with almost identical confused expressions.

 

“Pansy, you… you know him?” Ron asked, his head tilted and his eyes narrowed in confusion as he watched his fiancée wave her finger in the face of the muggle.  Hadn’t he told her that Hermione was bringing her muggle boyfriend?  Yes, of course he had.  So, what on earth was she so up in arms about? 

 

Pansy turned to look at her fiancée with an incredulous look on her face as though she didn’t understand why no one else realized exactly who was before them, hands resting on her hips.  “Of course, I know him, Ronald.  My question is, what is he doing here?” 

 

Pansy scanned the room and made eye contact with Hermione when the realization came crashing down upon her.

 

Pansy pointed at Draco, who was staring at her with an unreadable expression, with a knowing grin, “You…” She said before pointing to Hermione whose eyes were as wide as saucers “…and you? Salazar’s soul, this is the last thing I ever expected.”  And then she doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach as her ebony locks spilled over her shoulders. 

 

Everyone else looked at the witch as though she had been thoroughly confounded.

 

“I knew I was missing something!”  She suddenly exclaimed.  “It all makes so much sense.”

 

“Care to share with the class, Parkinson?”  Harry requested in a snappish tone, clearly unamused and still utterly baffled at Pansy’s reaction to the brown-haired, blue-eyed muggle man in his home. He knew she harbored no resentment towards muggles and the scene she was making was giving him a headache. 

 

Hermione, who had made her way over to Draco from the doorway where she had been standing with Ginny, slipped her hand into his.  He squeezed her hand and went to reach for his wand to drop the appearance charms.  They had both been hoping to do this later in the evening, but Pansy’s arrival had turned everything topsy-turvy in the space of a few short minutes.

 

“Think _very_ hard, Potter.”  She urged him, still laughing while batting Ron’s hands away from her.  “I’m fine, Ronald,” she chided between giggles.

 

Harry knit his brows and attempted to go over all of the information they knew about Hermione and Drake  They had been tailing Hermione for several weeks and knew she met with her boyfriend nearly every morning at a coffee shop near where she worked. Her boyfriend was a muggle doctor, the very same man who was in his home. The day Pansy had joined Ginny to keep an eye on Hermione, Pansy left Ginny to go get coffee where she encountered Draco Malfoy in the coffee shop Hermione…

 

Wait.  No.  It couldn’t be.

 

Harry looked very closely at the facial features of the man in front of him.  Just as the realization hit Harry, Draco wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulders and dropped the appearance charms with a wave of his wand, returning his hair and eyes to their correct colors.  A sly smirk slid across his lips as his now gray eyes met emerald.

 

“Malfoy.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Malfoy.”

 

The room was filled with the kind of echoing silence that penetrates a graveyard on a bleak autumn day.  No one breathed.  No one moved.  But everyone stared at the blonde man who was now standing in middle of the living room, his arm wrapped protectively around the shoulders of Hermione Granger.  _Their_ Hermione Granger.  Facial expressions were significantly varied and it was clear that each person was processing the fact that Draco Malfoy was standing in the living room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place in his or her own way.   

 

……….

 

Draco stood proudly with his arm draped protectively around Hermione’s shoulder as though he were afraid she would bear the brunt of any backlash over what had just occurred.  He still wore an amused expression on his face, but he knew he had nothing to hide.  He was a changed man and he was certain that if Hermione was able to accept him, warts and all, that they would come through this encounter relatively unscathed.  Still, a part of him told him this was the calm before the storm and that _something_ was about to erupt.

 

The moment he saw the raved haired beauty walk through the door, he knew they were finished, though it took her slightly longer to connect the dots than he had anticipated.  Without her accusations, they could’ve perhaps held up the charade a bit longer but Draco was honestly a bit relieved that things were out in the open.  Keeping secrets never really did anyone any good and he had made it a point to be an honest man for the past ten years. 

 

Well, except for hiding the nature of his true identity. That was a necessity and was as normal to him as breathing.  He was as much Drake Moore as he was Draco Malfoy.

 

……….

 

Hermione leaned into Draco’s embrace, smiling up at him with a look of adoration for the compassionate man he had become.  She was certain they would need to apologize to her friends for having a laugh at their expense, but they also owed her a pretty serious apology for their behavior.  An eye for an eye, wasn’t that the saying?  Never mind that the end of the proverb referred to leaving the entire world blind.

 

No, it would end here tonight and they would all be able to move forward, hopefully as friends.  She felt a pang of guilt at her behavior over the last ten years - hiding from those she loved, but she was adamant that her reasons had been justified. But now, it was time to move forward and to let them back into her life while she and Draco also moved forward with their own relationship without the safety of their aliases. How exactly they were moving forward was yet to be fully determined, but they had time for that.  

 

What was important now, was that they needed to tackle her friends and their feelings related to Draco. If her friends could come around to Pansy Parkinson after her transgressions, she was certain their acceptance of Draco would not be a problem, but she suspected that at least one member of the Golden Trio would need more convincing.

 

……….

 

Harry’s eyes were locked on the tall blonde wizard who stood with his arm wrapped around his own best friend.  Shock coursed through his body and questions flooded his mind as he stared at Draco Malfoy who just smiled back with an arrogant, shit-eating grin on his face.

 

He had always been suspicious of Malfoy throughout their time at Hogwarts and this display only served to heighten his suspicions of his former schoolyard rival.  As soon as he saw the supposed-muggle lift his wand, Harry’s hand was hovering over his own and now it was clutched in his palm, albeit held at his side rather than trained on the man in front of him.  His eyes shifted imperceptibly to Hermione to check for any possible tells that she was under duress, but she simply smiled adoringly at the man at her side.  Imperius?  No.  Amortentia?  Unlikely.  Genuine Feelings?  The thought made him want to vomit, even though just days before he thought that Drake Moore was a pretty likeable bloke.  Draco Malfoy, that sent his stomach churning. 

 

He hoped there was a good explanation. 

 

……….

 

Anger coursed through the body of Ronald Weasley at the sight of Draco Malfoy, the bloody ferret, standing in the middle of Harry’s living room with his arm draped so familiarly around Hermione. He felt something primal well up in his chest and he went to lunge forward to knock the lights out of the former Death Eater with a well-placed punch to the jaw only to find he was unable to move.

 

……….

 

Ginny leaned against the doorframe of the living room that led to the kitchen, a partially filled glass of red wine sitting delicately in her hand.  One side of her mouth was turned up in a half smile at the sight before her.  She hadn’t been lying when she told Hermione she thought Drake… Draco… seemed wonderful and she knew that Hermione never did anything without copious amounts of thought.  She trusted the witch’s judgment, even after all of these years. 

 

Of course, Ginny Potter was no fool. As soon as she heard her husband utter the name of the man who shifted from someone unfamiliar to someone a bit too familiar, she cast a sticking charm on her brother’s shoes.  No, there would be no bloodshed in her home tonight.  She was certain that his fiancée would back her up on this given that the man in the middle of her living room happened to be Pansy’s best friend.

 

……….

 

It all made so much sense.  Pansy stood with a look of sheer amusement on her face at the turn of events.  Her long-lost best friend was apparently dating the long-lost best friend of her fiancée and boss.  Oh, what a glorious clusterfuck this was turning out to be.  She should’ve connected the dots sooner, but it took seeing the two of them in the same room for her to make the connection between Draco and Hermione.

 

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.  They were the ultimate power couple, or at least they would’ve been seen as such had they still been present within the wizarding world.  She could see the headlines now: 

 

_Former Death Eater Smitten with War Heroine_

_Finding Love in Muggle London: A Tale of Star Crossed Lovers_

_Missing Malfoy Heir Dates Gone-Girl Granger_

The press would have a field day if they ever got wind of this star-crossed romance. Pansy wondered how long they had known because clearly the look Hermione was giving Draco showed she not only knew about his appearance charms but that she was perfectly fine to see him without them.  

 

It was Pansy’s laughter which eventually broke the deafening silence.  “Alright, kids.  How long?” She said, gesturing to the couple standing in the middle of the living room. 

 

Despite her lighthearted candor, Pansy could see Ron seething from across the room and she knew this wouldn’t end well if she didn’t intervene.  She crossed the room swiftly and laid a calming hand on her intended’s shoulder.  The look on his face didn’t change but she could feel some of the tension drain from his body.  Even so, he still looked ready to pop and she wasn’t sure she would be able to diffuse him.

 

Hermione and Draco gave each other a knowing look before responding in unison.  “Yesterday.” 

 

Harry managed to find his voice next.  “Wait.  What do you mean ‘yesterday’?” He said, complete with air quotes.  “You told me you had been dating since January!”  Harry exclaimed, his brow knit in confusion.

 

Hermione remained calm, savoring the feeling of Draco’s fingertips caressing her shoulder.  “We have been dating since January… but we broke the _Statute of Secrecy_ yesterday.” Hermione said with a smile, shifting her gaze up to Draco once more.  Her cheeks flushed a pale pink as he looked down upon her with a loving gaze.

 

It was Ginny’s turn to speak, following a long pull of her wine.  “So, it was a coincidence, then? You… didn’t know.”

 

Draco nodded at the youngest Weasley.  “Complete coincidence.  The odds alone are astronomical, but Hermione was waiting for me at my home after my dinner with Pansy yes –“

 

“You had dinner with Pansy?  Why didn’t you tell me?” Hermione interrupted.

 

“We were a little busy, love.”  Draco said with a kiss to her forehead before turning back to everyone.  “To continue, following my dinner with Pansy, Hermione broke the _Statue_ thinking I was a muggle.  Immediately thereafter, it was my turn to tell her my own story.”

 

Harry stared the couple with a look of complete and utter bewilderment.  He rubbed his hands roughly over his face thinking that perhaps when he opened his eyes again he would’ve imagined all of it and that the blond man is his living room would go back to being a brunette. 

 

That would’ve made so much more sense to him than having his best friend dating their former schoolyard nemesis.

 

Before Harry could say anything else, Ron spoke through clenched teeth, his anger unabated and boiling to the surface, despite Pansy’s best efforts. “How dare you.”  Ron spat, staring at the blonde wizard as if looks could kill.  “How dare you call her by her name with the way you treated her.  You’re nothing but a good-for-nothing Death Eater.” 

 

Draco’s smile fell and he assumed a familiar, cold, stoic, sneering expression as his grip tightened around Hermione’s shoulders.  “Do not –“

 

“Ronald _Bilius_ Weasley.” Pansy admonished sharply in a hushed voice, “Outside.”  She commanded the quietness of her voice making her seem all the more menacing and dangerous as she took her fiancée by the wrist and nearly dragged him from the room, despite his best efforts to escape from the grip by which she held him.  

 

Ron’s face was still red with anger as he tried to rip his arm from Pansy’s grasp. “Let me go, Pansy.  This needs to be said, damn it.”

 

“Not on your life.”  She warned, pulling out her wand and pushing it up under his jaw. “Now, unless you would like to sleep on the couch indefinitely, I suggest you follow me.”  She waited for just a moment before adding an emphatic “…now”.

 

Ron took one last venomous glance at Malfoy and inhaled a deep breath, following his fiancée out of the living room and into the backyard, his hands still balled into fists.

 

A tense silence overtook the room again for just a moment before Hermione weaseled her way out of Draco’s embrace and stormed through the living room after the pair with a look of sheer determination mixed with a touch of rage and hurt imprinted on her features.  She slammed the door to the backyard shut behind her without a word. 

 

Draco picked up the glass of whiskey he had set down earlier and downed the rest of the amber liquid in the glass, his gray eyes meeting Potter’s green, waiting for the question that was dancing on the tip of the other man’s tongue. 

 

“Why the ruse?”  Harry asked, folding his arms across his chest.

 

Draco shrugged, shifting on his feet a bit.  There was something unnerving about being in a room with only Potter and his wife.  “It was Hermione’s idea, believe it or not.  She was angry with you lot for stalking her for weeks on end.”

 

Ginny laughed from the doorway, clearly pleased with her friend. Hermione had managed to pull one over on all of them and Ginny knew they deserved it.  “She’s a brilliant witch, but I’m glad we don’t have to pretend anymore.  Being a muggle is exhausting when you have no idea what you’re doing.”  She admitted with a chuckle as she turned briefly back to the kitchen muttering a string of incantations sending all of the prepared food to the table in the dining room. 

 

“We may as well eat, gentlemen.  They’re going to be out there for a while given the way my git of a brother acted.” The youngest Weasley turned to walk into the dining room, wine glass in her hand assuming her husband and the blonde man would follow.

 

Harry and Draco exchanged understanding looks with one another and both made their way into the dining room.

 

“So, uh.  Weasley and Pansy, huh?” Draco asked.

 

“Yep.”

 

There wasn’t a single scenario Draco could imagine that would’ve possibly pushed Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson together.  Much like his own relationship with Hermione, it seemed that fate had a sense of humor which extended beyond his own life. “How did that happen?”

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

……….

 

When Hermione arrived in the backyard, Pansy was standing coolly across from Ron with her arms crossed speaking to him in hushed tones holding two wands in one of her hands. Ron simply stood there, taking the calm reprimand Pansy was giving him, his body still flushed and shaking with anger.

 

“…disappointed in your behavior towards someone I care about. Draco was exonerated from all of his crimes and if Hermione has accepted him as he is that means you should as well.  Not to mention, you should respect my opinion of him, especially since you knew I had dinner with him yesterday and you were completely fine with it.” 

 

Hermione approached the couple, smiling at the raven-haired witch.  “Pansy, would you mind if I spoke to Ron?” she asked calmly, suppressing the anger that had been flowing through her veins mere moments before. She had expected Ron to be angry and even play the _Death Eater_ card, but seeing and hearing it were something else entirely. 

 

Pansy looked from Hermione to Ron and back again, nodding her head.  “Of course.  If you need me, I’ll be just inside.”  A look of warning passed from Pansy to Ron before she turned on her heels and slipped back inside of the house calling out once more, “Our conversation is not finished, Ronald.”

 

Ron winced.

 

Once the door was closed, Hermione spoke quietly to the redhead in front of her.  “Hello, Ron.”

 

“How can you even stand him?”  He spat. 

 

Hermione arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.  She could see the anger simmering just below the surface.  If they were going to move past this, he needed to explode.  Ten years later and his tells were exactly the same.  

 

“So, this is how it’s going to be, is it? Let’s have it.”

 

The anger Ron had been trying unsuccessfully to suppress bubbled out of him like one of Seamus’s cauldron explosions.  He began pacing around the back yard as he spoke, each syllable punctuated with years of pent up hatred for one Draco Malfoy.

 

“He’s a Death Eater, Hermione. I saw the bloody Mark on his arm when he dropped the charms.  You know as well as I do what the fuck that means.” 

 

Ron roughly ran his fingers through his shaggy ginger hair.  “He disappeared over ten years ago and who knows what the fuck he’s been doing in that time?  It makes me sick to think of what kind of evil he’s capable of.  Did you just forget that he called you _mudblood_ every bloody chance he got?”  Hermione cringed at his use of the word, but remained stoic.

 

“His aunt marked you with that awful word while he was in the house and he did nothing to stop it.  He stood by and watched your torture.  Not to mention, it was his fault Dumbledore died that night.  His stupid house was Voldemort’s headquarters…”

 

“… and Pansy tried to give Harry over to Riddle, unless you’ve forgotten Ronald.” Hermione interrupted, having waited for precisely the right moment to try and turn this around. 

 

“That’s not fair, Hermione.” Ron said with a warning tone, immediately jumping to Pansy’s defense. “She’s different now and she only did that to stop any more bloodshed.  She’s even apologized to Harry for it.”

 

“Exactly.  Tell me, Ronald, what did you think of _Drake_ before the charms were dropped?”  Hermione asked with as much gentleness as she could muster, knowing what his answer would be.  She had seen the looks on his face while they had conversed and he had thoroughly approved of Drake Moore.

 

“He seemed like a nice enough bloke, Hermione.”  He replied truthfully.  He just couldn’t bring himself to lie to her.  “But this changes everything.  It’s Malfoy for fuck’s sake.” 

 

“It changes absolutely nothing, Ron. That man you saw, that you _approved_ of, that was who Draco is now.  It’s who he has become and he is _nothing_ like he was when we were in school.”

 

“How can you defend the bastard?”

 

“Because people change, Ronald!” She shouted, finally losing her cool.  “Pansy’s changed, right?  Well, so has Draco and if you want to keep me in your life from here on out, you’ll need to give him a chance.”  She hated having to play that card, but it had been Ron’s inability to move past their childish past that had forced her to use whatever was at her disposal. 

 

“Hermione…”  he pleaded. 

 

“No, Ronald.”  She affirmed, closing the gap between them so that their noses would’ve almost touched had she been about a foot taller.  “That man in there is a fine, upstanding member of society.  He saves lives on a daily basis and he makes me ridiculously happy.  He deserves a chance to prove himself and you’re damn well going to give him one.”

 

Ron felt the anger drain from his body and he wrapped his arms around Hermione, enveloping her into a hug.  With a sigh and a grumble against her hair, he muttered a resigned, “Fine…”

 

“Good.”  Hermione breathed, returning his embrace, rubbing soothing circles over Ron’s back.

 

“I missed you, ‘Mione.” 

 

“I missed you too, Ron.”

 

………..

 

Calmly closing the door behind her, Pansy followed the sound of voices into the dining room.  She found Draco and Harry engaging in a quiet conversation while Ginny slipped a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth looking entirely too smug.  Judging by the lack of tense looks and occasional smiles, these three appeared to be getting along alright.

 

Thank Circe for small blessings.

 

As Pansy entered the dining room, Ginny set her fork down and silently rose from the table, passing Pansy a glass of red wine before moving into the kitchen to retrieve the witch something a bit stronger. 

 

“How’d it go?”  Harry asked, shifting his gaze from Draco to Pansy.

 

Pansy slid into a chair next to Draco and punched him in the arm with a derisive stare, ignoring Harry’s question.  “Why didn’t you tell me, you great prat?” 

 

Draco rubbed his arm where her fist had made contact.  Even after all this time, she could still pack a punch. “Shit, Pansy.  Did you miss the part where I only found out after our dinner?”

 

“You’re lying.” Pansy accused with a confident smirk before taking an unusually large swig of wine in a decidedly ungraceful manner.  Apparently pureblood etiquette went out the window when one’s fiancée had stepped in a huge pile of hippogriff shit and one’s best friend wasn’t being entirely truthful. “There is absolutely no way you didn’t recognize Hermione as soon as you met Harry in the coffee shop.” 

 

_Fuck._

 

The tips of Draco’s ears turned a crimson hue as she caught him in his lie.  Okay, so he was generally an honest person, telling one little lie here and there wasn’t too bad, right?  “I’ll admit that I figured it out the day I saw her with Potter, but I wasn’t prepared to come clean right then.  It was a pretty big shock, but ultimately her name didn’t matter to me.  She is who she is and once I realized that, I was fine with whoever she decided to be.” 

 

Draco inclined his head towards the boy-who-lived.  “I’m sorry again, Potter… for all of the pretending.”  It was at least half true.  He was remorseful for having caused such a scene, but not for getting to poke a bit of fun at them before shit hit the fan.

 

Harry shrugged and simply lifted his glass of whiskey in acknowledgement. 

 

Draco turned back to Pansy who was slowly sipping her wine in contempt.  “If we’re being honest, I rather expected Hermione to react like Weasley did… “

 

“How is Ron?”  Harry interjected, sending a concerned look towards Pansy.  He didn’t condone his friend’s actions but was worried about him, knowing he had been reprimanded by both Pansy and Hermione. One of them was formidable enough, but both of them… he was glad he had kept his mouth shut about Malfoy’s past, though he had been thinking much the same thing as Ron when it happened. 

 

“My fiancée deserves whatever hexes Hermione is throwing at him.  He was completely out of line and I hope she gets in a few good hexes, personally.”  She huffed, finishing off the glass of wine.

 

Had Pansy been a man, Draco would’ve punched her right back in the arm, instead he settled for a knitted brow and an arrogant smirk.  “Look who is keeping secrets now…” he teased. “Fiancée, is it?”

 

Ginny arrived at that moment with a tumbler of firewhiskey for Pansy, setting the remainder of the bottle on the table, “Thanks, Gin.”  She said politely, before turning to her best friend. “Go suck on a toadstool, Draco.” Pansy quipped, knocking back a shot.

 

Draco chuckled and refilled his own tumbler and Potter’s.  To hell with work tomorrow, he knew he had a sobering up potion stashed somewhere around his house for emergencies. “There’s the Pansy I know.”  Draco said as Hermione and Ron entered the room.  Ron’s posture was slumped in defeat and Hermione stood tall and proud, clearly she was the victor in whatever sparring match had happened while they were outside.  Draco was mildly disappointed to see that Weasley didn’t appear injured at all. 

 

“Alright there, Ron?”  Harry asked.                                                                                 

 

“Yeah, ‘m sorry.”  Ron mumbled, keeping his head down. 

 

It wasn’t clear exactly who Ron was addressing with his mumbled apology, but Draco decided to take the high road and assume it was directed at him.  “No problem.” He said, calmly, sliding a tumbler of firewhiskey down towards the redhead as a gesture of peace. 

 

They could all use a bit of firewhiskey tonight.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you’ve been following this tale from the beginning, please be advised that I’ve revised the entire story, added about 6k words to previous chapters and fixed several grammatical errors. No major changes to the plot, however! As such, this story is not beta-ed, so there are probably a few errors floating about.

 

Narcissa Malfoy was thoroughly vexed.  Her blue eyes narrowed on the priceless vase which sat across the room on a pedestal, though in her mind she hurled it across the room.  The sound of the shatter it made within her mind was exceptionally satisfying.  Now if she could only bring herself to hurl the ugly ceramic piece into an actual wall, she might feel a bit better.

 

As it was, she was resigned to brooding within in the solitude of her private sitting room.  The dinner party she planned to welcome her son back with open arms came and went one week ago.  At least the Parkinson girl had sent a politely worded refusal, citing a previous engagement but ensuring her that Draco was well.

 

The elegant matriarch of the Malfoy family had almost resigned herself to hunting down her son herself and shoving one perfectly manicured finger in his face for his indignation in refusing her invitation when a tapping on the window pulled her from her thoughts.

 

“Oh, bother it all,” the woman grumbled to herself as she rose from the gilded chaise lounge to intercept the non-descript post-owl bearing a letter.  The handwriting on the outer envelope was unfamiliar and was therefore one of the many charities she donated to requesting aide.

 

With a sashay of her hips, Narcissa crossed the room and settled herself in front of the ancient oak writing desk and pulled a letter opener with a mother of pearl handle through the seam of the envelope.

 

With a derisive sign, Narcissa pulled the letter from the envelope and opened the folded parchment to read about whatever charity was requesting her aid this time.  Except, it wasn’t that at all.

 

_Madam Malfoy,_

 

_Please excuse any perceived impertinence in my drafting a letter to you without us having been formally introduced.  I understand such things are important within the circles in which you move and I apologize for my forwardness._

_My name is Maya Garrett and I have been dating your son since January.  It has come to my attention that a dinner invitation went unanswered and I would like to ensure you it was unintentional._

_Your son and I have been slowly adjusting to our brief, albeit minimal, reintegration into wizarding society over the past two weeks and unfortunately, the dinner invitation was misplaced in the chaos of reuniting with my friends. In addition to this, your son, who works as a very well-respected healer (known as a doctor in the muggle world), has been working double shifts due to several unexpected changes at his place of employment.  Because of these circumstances, Draco bid me write to you as I have more time to pen a letter than he, at the moment._

_As neither of us are comfortable within wizarding society at this time, I respectfully request that you consider either extending another invitation to the pair of us or join us one morning for brunch at muggle establishment as neither of our flats are fit for entertaining, at the moment._

_For the moment, Draco has dropped the untraceable charm in order for future post to find him should you choose to correspond._

_Yours respectfully,_

_Maya J. Garrett_

The nerve of the girl.  What impertinence!  Narcissa resisted the urge to crumple the letter and hurl it across the room in much the same way she had been thinking of lobbing the vase against a nearby wall minutes before.

 

How dare the chit think it proper to send her a letter indicating that any future invitations would be for the _pair_ of them?  With a surname like Garrett is was clear the girl was a half-blood at best.  Narcissa’s nose lifted to the air in a snobbish display, though there was no one around to see her.

 

It was lowered seconds later when her shoulders began to shake and large, fat tears fell unchecked from the corners of her eyes, splashing and marring the ink of the crisp parchment of the letter.  Who was she to be so prejudiced against a girl she didn’t even know?  The shame she felt at her automatic reaction was jarring. 

 

It wasn’t as if her son was refusing to see her, circumstances had simply prevented him from corresponding.  At least she knew that the Parkinson chit had kept up her end of the bargain and had given Draco the dinner invitation. 

 

With Lucius’ health not being what it once was, it wouldn’t do for them to travel far and she wasn’t certain exactly how far from Wiltshire her son and this… this girl he was courting lived.  Therefore, she would swallow her injured pride and extend an invitation once more… to the pair of them.  The way the girl penned her letter, it was clear that she and Draco came as a set and the likelihood of her getting her son alone was slim, especially if her son was as busy as this girl made it seem.

 

Yes, Narcissa would invite the pair of them and meet this girl.  Her writing and penmanship indicated some level of intelligence and Narcissa highly doubted her son would find himself involved with little brains to speak of. 

 

Honestly, she was delighted the girl was a witch and not a muggle. 

 

Though what was Narcissa to think?  From the letter, it seemed that both this girl and her son had absconded from the wizarding world.  How many young people had made that foolish decision besides her son and the famous war heroine they still published articles about periodically.  What was her name?  Oh yes, Hermione Granger.  How could Narcissa forget?  The girl was tortured before her in the drawing room during the war by her own deranged sister no less and there wasn’t a single thing she could’ve done to stop it.

 

Narcissa shuddered and pushed the thoughts of the war from her mind before taking hold of a delicate quill and penning a letter to her son.

 

……….

 

“You’ve a letter from your mother.”  Hermione said from her place on Draco’s sofa as the man walked in through the front door, immediately dropping the glamour charm over his features. 

 

Hermione, who set her stack of marking aside with the green pen perfectly balanced on top of the stack, studied the wizard from beneath her blanket.  There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he looked about ready to drop from exhaustion.  She instantly regretted that the first words she said to him were about his mother after seeing the fatigue so plainly written across his face.

 

With a frown, she popped up from the sofa and threw her arms around him, tucking herself up under his arms which immediately wrapped around her petite frame. 

 

“Did you open it?” He asked with a yawn as he dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

 

Shaking her head, Hermione nuzzled her face against his chest before leading him over to the sofa.  He collapsed down in a heap of lassitude and she knelt at his feet, carefully removing his shoes.  “No, but I recognized her penmanship from the invitation.”

 

“Do you mind?”  He asked, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his brow.

 

With a shake of her head, Hermione smiled, “Not at all.”  She picked up his shoes and set them by the door before retrieving the letter and handing it to him.  Sauntering into his kitchen, she retrieved a crystal tumbler and a glass of scotch before pouring him a finger or two of the amber liquid and handing it to him upon her return to the living room.

 

“You’re an angel,” he praised, his entire body relaxing as he sipped the scotch before allowing his eyes to return to the letter.

 

“Mm.”  Hermione hummed non-commitally before settling next to him on the sofa, pulling her blanket back over her.

 

Slipping his arm around her shoulders, Draco pulled Hermione into him where she immediately settled her head against his chest.  “We’re invited to brunch.”

 

“Are you going to be able to find time for brunch?” She asked, honestly.  These past two weeks had been brutal on Draco’s sleep schedule, having to practically work two jobs until another surgeon could be hired.  Even with the hospital referring patients elsewhere, he was still being worked to the bone.

 

“Sanderson hired someone who is supposed to start next week.  She’s from the States but comes highly recommended.”

 

“Oh, thank goodness.”  Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly.  “You’re not getting enough rest, Draco.  I’ve even thought about finding an apothecary and sourcing a rejuvenation draught and a bottle or two of dreamless sleep.”

 

“Oh, would you, love?  I promise to love you forever.” The relief permeating Draco’s voice at the mere thought of a set of potions to ease his exhaustion made Hermione’s heart ache. She was well and truly worried about him and if there was one thing the wizarding world did better than the muggle word it the diversity of the potions, salves, and tinctures available to treat things like fatigue.

 

“Forever is a long time.” Hermione remarked absently.

 

“Would you be… agreeable to forever?”  His voice was cautious as his hold on her tightened slightly as though she might flee at the implications of his words.

 

She didn’t flee, but she stiffened. “Are you…?”

 

“No.”  Draco paused and buried his face into her hair, breathing in the familiar, calming scent.”  “But I might… someday.” 

 

“Oh.” Her heart thrummed erratically and her chest and her entire body felt flushed at the implications of his words. “I might accept… someday,” she whispered quietly. 

 

The letter from his mother was discarded as Draco threaded the fingers of one hand through her hair, while the other still held the tumbler.  He tilted her face to his and pressed his lips gently against hers in a sweet, almost reverent kiss which seemed seal the promise of _someday_.

 

……….

 

Hermione pulled the small box from within her desk and stared at the contents.  Vinewood with a Dragon Heartstring core.  Ten and three-quarter inches.  While she had briefly removed the very familiar wand from the box where it had resided for nearly ten years the night she confided in Draco, she had nearly immediately returned it to the small, rectangular box which was safely tucked away in her desk. 

 

She felt the familiar hum of magic as she plucked it from the box, balancing it gracefully in her hand.  The part of her aching to use her magic sighed happily, while the part of her which reminded her she didn’t need it to be happy grumbled that she had retrieved the object.

 

She quickly transfigured a sundress into a set of robes and disguised her appearance with a glamour, turning her hair into a rather unfortunate shade of strawberry blonde.  While she doubted anyone would recognize her, she wasn’t above taking precautions to ensure she remained anonymous when she entered the Alley.

 

After seeing the state of Draco’s health the previous evening, Hermione was determined to fetch the restorative potions necessary and the closest apothecary was in Diagon Alley, a place she hadn’t been in nearly eleven years.

 

With a flick of her wrist, Hermione felt the familiar compression of apparition, landing neatly on her feet in a secluded corner of the Alley reserved for the comings and goings of witches and wizards.  She quickly surveyed her surroundings and pulled a pair of large sunglasses over her eyes before stepping out of the apparition point and joining the crowds as they moved to and fro along the cobblestone paths. 

 

She allowed herself a lingering glance towards Flourish and Blotts as she continued on her way towards Gringotts to change her pounds to galleons.  Once that task was finished, she made her way straight to the apothecary without incident.  Once inside, Hermione placed her order with the shop assistant and stood while she gathered the requisite potions.

 

She was surprised to see a faded poster with her photograph on it surrounded by the words _Have You Seen This Witch?_ hung near one of the windows in the front of the shop. 

 

“They still haven’t found her, you know.”  The shop girl said as she carefully measured out several vials of the restorative draught.

 

“Perhaps she doesn’t want to be found.” Hermione replied, watching as her much younger self smiled for the camera. She didn’t recognize where the photograph had been taken, but she couldn’t be much older than twenty.

 

“Well, I for one hope she returns.  It was such a tragedy when she disappeared.  She was one of my idols when I was growing up, you know?  Such a brave, clever witch.  I practically begged the hat to put me in Gryffindor but it sent me to Hufflepuff instead.” 

 

The shop assistant placed the delicate vials in a wooden box containing straw before turning her attention to the next set of potions Hermione had ordered. “The Ministry was in such an uproar.  I think Shacklebolt even tossed that horrible reporter in Azkaban under harassment charges.”

 

“Rita Skeeter?”  Hermione questioned, trying to appear only mildly interested, though her mind was reeling with questions.

 

“That’s the one.  I think she’s still in there.  Harry Potter lobbied pretty hard for new laws against what the press can and can’t do.  Sure, they’re still allowed to report on the movement of celebrities and all, but they can’t hound them the way they used to, you know?” 

 

Hermione hummed, considering the shop assistant’s words.  If what she said were true, returning to the wizarding world might not be so bad, for her or Draco.  It was certainly something to consider, though she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to return, though she had to admit the lure of Flourish and Blotts as well as the easy access to various potions were certainly positive factors for venturing into the Alley more often, even if she had to use another alias or glamor to conceal herself from curious eyes.

 

“Will that be all, miss?” The shop assistant asked as she handed Hermione her carefully wrapped package of potions in exchange for a handful of coins.

 

“Yes, thank you.”  Hermione said before taking her leave and exiting the shop.  She quickly made her way through the throngs of witches and wizards to the apparition point and whisked herself away to the safety of her flat. 

 

……….

 

It was a beautiful spring morning when Draco and Hermione found themselves hand in hand on the porch of Malfoy Manor, staring up at the large wooden door.  In fact, it was nearly summer when Draco’s schedule finally cleared enough to even think about considering brunch with his mothers.  They had exchanged a few letters during that time, though several of Draco’s were written by Hermione from dictation.  After the new surgeon had been hired, Draco took two days off, dosed himself with dreamless sleep and didn’t get out of bed for nearly eighteen hours as he tried to sleep off the latent exhaustion of the past month.

 

Pressing his hand against the ancient wood, the wards recognized the Malfoy heir and the door swung easy on its hinges, allowing the pair of them access with little fuss. It wasn’t long before the click of heels carried the Malfoy matriarch into the foyer where she promptly threw her arms around her son and wept.

 

Hermione stood awkwardly nearby while she watched the tearful reunion, no matter how expected it was, before she heard the clearing of a throat to her left.  When she turned to see where the sound had come from, she came face to face with none other than Lucius Malfoy. 

 

“Shall we, Miss Granger?”  The head of the Malfoy family asked, holding his arm out as though to beckon her into his private study.

 

If she was surprised at his recognition, she didn’t show it. With a glance back to Draco and his mother, Hermione turned to face Lucius and strode towards him, her posture indicative of nothing but confidence.  She was grateful he couldn’t see the butterflies flitting around in her stomach.  She passed through the door and he motioned for her to sit in a plush armchair before settling into his own.

 

What Hermione thought might have been a study turned out to be one of probably a number of sitting rooms scattered throughout the manor.  The room was open and bright with feminine touches here and there bit still bespoke of the wealth of the Malfoy family. 

 

“I must admit, Miss Granger, we were expecting our son to arrive in the company of a Miss Garrett.  You wouldn’t have an explanation for that, would you?”

 

With her hands folded demurely in her lap, Hermione locked her gaze onto the silvery eyes of the patriarch of the Malfoy family.  Unlike the silver toned eyes of her beloved, whose gaze was often light and playful, the orbs staring back at her carried the weight of the world within.

 

“She and I are one in the same, sir.”

 

“An alias?  How clever, Miss Granger.  Tell me, what alias has my son used all of these years?”

 

“I suspect you are already aware of the fact that he goes by Dr. Drake Moore these days, sir.”  Hermione knew for a fact he was aware given that Draco had written that quite plainly in one of his letters.

 

One corner of Lucius’ mouth rose in a smirk as he watched her with careful eyes. “Indulge me the tale of your meeting one another, my dear.  It was my understanding that you and my son left our world around the same time.” 

 

“Coincidence, I assure you, Mr. Malfoy.”  Hermione affirmed before providing a brief summary of how they met up until the time they had accepted Narcissa’s invitation to brunch, knowing that he would likely just keep asking her questions if she didn’t indulge him the information to begin with.

 

Lucius steepled his fingers and leaned forward, his narrowed eyes causing his brow to furrow. “And is my son happy, Miss Granger?”

 

Before she could respond, the door to the sitting room flew open and her eyes met Draco’s, who seemed quite relieved to find her still at the Manor.  “There you are.”  He said, crossing the room to where she sat as Narcissa peeked in through the door way.

 

Hermione smiled up at Draco as he took her hand in his, perching on the arm of her chair.  “I thought it best to give you and your mother a bit of privacy.”

 

His respite was short-lived as he was once again on his feet with his hand clasped firmly in that of his father’s.

 

“Father,” Draco greeted, courteously before Lucius pulled him into an embrace, wrapping his arms around his one and only son.  With that embrace, all of the guilt from abandoning his parents for the past decade rushed into the forefront of his mind.  Just as he had done his mother, he grasped his father tightly as though a hug from the man would make all of the troubles of the world recede. 

 

“Son.”

 

Hermione watched as Lucius’ body visibly relaxed as he hugged his son.  In some ways, this reunion was even more emotional than the one she had witnessed earlier between Draco and his mother, though no tears were shed.  She could only imagine what might be going through Draco’s mind while feeling completely honored to share in this intimate moment with him and his parents.

 

She had already made up her mind that Lucius had his son’s best interests at heart and seemed to have mellowed considerably from the wizard who had tried to murder herself and her friends on more than one occasion. She hoped to get to know the man further as well as for a proper introduction to Draco’s mother, though the latter was likely to happen within the next few moments.

 

When they broke apart with both father and son wearing identical smiles, Hermione looked up at Lucius from her seat in the plush arm-chair and saw the magnitude of his affection for his son in the way he carried himself.  He seemed to walk a little taller and his posture was just a bit straighter.

 

“Before Draco came in, you asked me a question, Mr. Malfoy and I think you should know that my answer is an emphatic _yes._ ”

 

“What did you ask her?” Draco asked his father, puzzled, as he settled back onto the arm of the chair where Hermione sat. 

 

“Only if you were happy.” Lucius replied, his arm coming to rest around his wife who had finally entered the room instead of peering at the scene through the doorway.

 

Draco’s gaze turned to Hermione as he fondly caressed the back of her cheek with his knuckles, smiling down on her with every ounce of love he had to give. 

 

“Exceptionally so.”

 

……….

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Only one more chapter to go! Please let me know if you’re enjoying this little tale I’ve crafted. It’s been a pleasure to write and will be even more of a pleasure to finally finish.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We have reached the end of our tale! I’ve had so much fun writing Alias over the past however many months and am utterly thrilled to have finally finished my first multi-chapter fic. Thank you for the oodles of support along the way! I appreciate each and every favorite, follow, kudos, and review. Enjoy!

_One Year Later_

 

“Are you certain this is something you want to do?” Hermione was draped languidly across a towel-covered plastic lawn chair in the heat of summer wearing nothing more than a multi-colored bikini.  Her skin had taken on the golden hues of summer and her unruly curls were piled high on the top of her head.

 

“Don’t you think we’ve discussed it enough?” Draco asked with mild irritation from his own nearby lawn chair.  Unlike Hermione who wore a mild sun protectant, he was slathered in the most expensive, highest SPF sunscreen money could buy as even a few minutes in the sun left him to burn, rather than tan.

 

Hermione turned her head to look at the man beside her whose nose was currently buried in an advanced healing text on the treatments and incantations of rare magical hexes, jinxes, and curses.  “No need to get snippy.  I just want to make sure you’ll be happy with your decision a year from now.” 

 

Closing the book with a thud, Draco turned his attention to the witch next to him who wore a petulant pout.  “I’m not being snippy.  We’ve discussed this decision countless times, Hermione.  The story is set to run tomorrow in the Quibbler and I start my internship next Monday.”  

 

With a sigh, Hermione turned over onto her stomach, her arms encircling her head, hiding her face from Draco’s view. “It still makes me nervous, that’s all,” she murmured.

 

Draco leaned over from his seat and placed his palm on the small of her back in an attempt to reassure her.  “I’m nervous too.” 

 

“What if it’s just like it was before?”  

 

“If it is, then we have options that weren’t available to us before.  We have the head of the DMLE on our side, my father’s vaults and influence, and a team of solicitors at our beck and call, should we need them.”  Draco traced the exposed curve of her spine, smiling as she shivered in the bright summer heat.

 

“With what we have in our vaults, we could probably buy the _Prophet_.  We might live like paupers for a year, but we could do it.” 

 

Hermione chuckled, pushing herself up onto her elbows.  “You’re right of course.”

 

A smug smile crossed Draco’s face as he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at his witch.  “Say it again.”

 

Hermione bit back a laugh.  “What?  No.”

 

“You just admitted that I am right.  I think this calls for a celebration.”  There was a look of smug satisfaction on his face as he hopped up from the chair he had been sitting in and crossed the small garden to retrieve something from the house.

 

“So, we celebrate when I admit that you’re correct about something, once I might add, but not when Dr. Drake Moore is going to be assisting the healers at St. Mungo’s with revolutionizing their procedures for magical surgery.”  She called across the small yard.

 

Draco returned with an open bottle of champagne and two flutes.  “Yes, the only caveat is that I’m required to progress through the entire internship portion of healer training before I can begin to work with their top staff.”

 

Pouring a measure of the bubbly liquid into one of the flutes, he handed it to Hermione, who was still lazing about on her stomach.  “I’m not really sure me admitting you being correct on one tiny thing warrants champagne in the middle of an afternoon, Draco.” 

 

With a shrug of his shoulders, he plopped down next to Hermione on her own lawn chair, the plastic groaning slightly under the weight of the two of them.  “Oh it’s not, but I’m certain we’ve cause to celebrate.”

 

“You just wanted a glass of champagne, did you?” Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow before taking a sip from her flute and promptly laying her head back down on the towel.

 

“That, and I think you’ll agree that we need to celebrate once you open this.”  Draco said with one of his charming smiles as he placed a small, square box in front of his witch’s nose. 

 

Her eyes crossed as she stared at the box.  “Draco…”

 

Draco traced small circles and swirls intermingled with the strokes and patterns of ancient runes along the curve of Hermione’s spine with his free hand, the other carefully balancing his glass of champagne.

 

“I don’t want to start this new chapter of our lives without the knowledge that you’ll be by my side… forever.”

 

Hermione placed her glass of champagne on a nearby table and, with shaking hands, opened the box to reveal a simple band of white gold with a single diamond solitaire.  With cheeks flaming red, she turned over in the chair, completing unseating the towel beneath her and wrapped a hand around the back of Draco’s neck, pulling him towards her in a way that caused his champagne to slosh out of his glass and trail down his arm.  She pressed her forehead against his, nuzzling her nose against his before capturing his lips in a sweet, sensual kiss. 

 

“Forever would be agreeable.”

 

……….

 

**_Granger and Malfoy Make Quiet Return to Wizarding Society_ **

 

_Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy have decided to make a quiet return to Wizarding Society. While the pair are indeed a couple, they wish to emphasize they have only been acquainted for the past year and a half despite both residing in the muggle world for the past decade.  Draco Malfoy, who has worked as healer in the muggle world, is set to begin an internship at St. Mungo’s while working closely with their emergency team to develop new methods for magical surgery while Hermione Granger will retain her position as an education within the muggle world while obtaining certifications necessary to provide instruction in magical theory and primary subjects for students younger than eleven.  The couple issued the following statement:_

_“It is with a mixture of pleasure and apprehension that we announce our return to wizarding society following a decade or more of absention.  We respectfully request that our privacy be honored as we make this transition back into the magical world from the mundane.”_

_We at the Quibbler wish the couple the best as they embark on this new chapter of their lives._

 

……….

 

“These are horribly impractical.”  Draco groaned, shrugging on healer’s robes in a sickening shade of puce.

 

Hermione laughed causing delicate curls to bounce around her shoulders as she eyed Draco from head to toe.  “I’m not certain you’ll convince them on your first day to completely give up robes for cotton scrubs, but you’d think the color could be a bit more becoming.”

 

“If I do anything worthwhile in my life it will be to convince the entire staff at St. Mungo’s that the muggles got it right on this one.”  Draco chuckled, straightening the robes and checking that his identification badges were pinned in the proper spots.  He stretched his arms this way and that.  “At least, I can wear my scrubs beneath this awful garment and pull off the robes if needed in a pinch.” 

 

Hermione sidled up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.  “You’ll do what you must and you’ll be brilliant at it.”  Draco turned around, taking her hands in his own before pressing reverent kisses to her palms.

 

“I’ll see you for dinner?” 

 

“If I’ve not gotten lost in unpacking and arranging my classroom in preparation for the upcoming term, of course.”

 

“Of course.” He chucked with a roll of his eyes. “I can only imagine how many tiny boxes you have tucked away which will need to be enlarged and unpacked.”

 

Hermione flushed a pretty shade of pink.  “More than I care to admit to, if we’re being honest.”

 

……….

 

_Three Years Later_

 

Hermione stood in front of a full-length mirror while Ginny Potter and Pansy Weasley flitted around behind her, clucking like hens.   A crown of summer blossoms sat delicately atop her curls, which took ages to arrange so they appeared effortless and cascading, rather than their normally somewhat fluffy appearance.  She was gowned in an off-white ensemble of ephemeral muslin and lace which flowed like water over her curves including her rounded abdomen. 

 

“I’m quite certain Draco is going to drop down dead at the alter when he sees you, Hermione.”  Ginny mused wistfully.

 

“Oh hush, Ginevra.  He will not.”  Pansy chided as she clasped a pendant around Hermione’s neck.

 

Ginny shrugged her shoulders and bounced up and down on her heels.  “Well, in the event he does there are several healers, magical and muggle, should he keep over like I suspect he will.”

 

Hermione waved a hand dismissively at the two witches who were making entirely too much fuss over absolutely nothing.  “Will you two stop it.  Draco will not keel over.  There will be no need for the hospital staff to jump into action.  The only thing that I’m praying for is that I do not go into labor in the middle of the ceremony.”

 

Ginny’s eyes widened, expectedly while Pansy simply reached for a travel tumbler filled the brim with coffee. “But you’re only seven months along.  That won’t happen will it?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and snatched the tumbler from Pansy’s hand before taking a long swing.  The dark-haired witch didn’t even protest.  Who was she to argue with a bride?  No less one who was carrying twins.

 

“No, Ginny.  I won’t happen.  These false contractions are being irritating and I’m practically sweltering.”

 

“I told you to go with the linen.” Pansy pointed out as she reached for another tumbler of coffee.  “It’s all that lace weighing you down.”

 

“But it was so pretty and summery,” Hermione practically whined, swishing her hips in front of the mirror, causing the lightweight dress to flutter around her legs.

 

“Yes, and still a bit warm for a woman who is seven months pregnant with twins.  Why you two idiots decided to wed in the middle of summer is beyond me.” 

 

“At least we’re not having to deal with the utter downpour like at your wedding to my brother,” Ginny said with a huff.  “You two decided to wed in March of all months.”

 

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered to no one but herself that she could use a shot of fire-whiskey about now. 

 

……….

 

“So, uh… what do you think the women are doing about now?”  Ron asked as he grasped a bottle of bitter, his tie askew and the buttons of his shirt only partially done.  Draco stood in front of a long mirror and was carefully tying a black tie in a Windsor knot while Harry was perched on a nearby sofa with his own bottle of bitter. 

 

Draco raised his eyebrows as he straightened his tie, turning to face the two men who had become two of his closest friends over the past two years.  “Hermione’s probably irritated with something beyond being pregnant and hot.  Ginny is hovering and Pansy is being acerbic because she hasn’t had quite enough coffee yet.”  

 

“Honestly, don’t the pair of you know anything about your own wives?”

 

Harry chuckled.  “You’ve got Ginny pegged for sure.  The older she gets the more she turns a little bit into her mother.”

 

Ron shot Harry a scathing look.  “There’s nothing wrong with mum, mate.”

 

“Didn’t say there was.”  Harry took a sip of his beer to avoid digging himself into a deeper hole.  He loved his wife, but lately she’d been a bit more like her mum with the hovering and the incessant need to bake, not that Harry minded the endless stores of biscuits in the house.  It was almost as if she were expecting again.

 

There was a loud knock at the door before it was pushed completely open by the shorter and distinctly portly, ginger-haired form of Molly Weasley, dressed in her best robes and carrying a crying toddler who was gowned in a lovely shade of periwinkle.  She was followed by the more austere and elegant form of Narcissa Malfoy, who held the hands of two small boys dressed to the nines, as she glided across the floor.

 

Ron discarded his beer and crossed the room in three quick strides, taking the toddler with perfectly plaited black hair from the arms of his mother who looked about at her wit’s end with the squalling girl.  “What happened, mum?”

 

The conversation faded into the background thanks to the identical squeals of James and Albus Potter as they ran to greet their father while Narcissa crossed the small space to stand behind her only son.

 

“You look quite handsome, Draco.”  Narcissa said fondly, resting her hand on his shoulder. 

 

Smiling at his mother in the mirror, he smoothed his hands down over the waistcoat.  “Thank you, mother.  You look exceptionally lovely today.” 

 

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, dear.”  Narcissa said, stepping around to adjust Draco’s tie for him.  “I saw your bride, she looks quite beautiful.”

 

“She’s always beautiful, mum.” Draco conceded, an almost giddy smile rising to his lips at the thought of how Hermione must look, pregnant with their twins and gowned in white.  She was sure to be a complete vision and he intended to ensure she knew just how highly he thought of her.

 

Draco felt the form of a small person clinging to his leg before he checked in the mirror to see exactly which of the tiny children he was nearly constantly exposed to now was currently attached to him.  “Uncle Draco?”

 

“Yes, Albus?” Draco asked, kneeling down so he was more at the boy’s height.

 

The look of guilt was written plain as day all over his face.  “I didn’t mean to pull Mari’s braids… it was an accident, you see.”  He seemed to be trying to convince himself more so than Draco.

 

“Even if it was perhaps on… accident, it would be prudent for you to apologize to Marigold.”

 

Albus blinked up at Draco with his large green eyes, confusion written on his face.

 

Draco sighed.  “Go tell Mari you’re sorry.”

 

Narcissa patted Draco’s cheek with her hand as Harry’s youngest son scampered away to apologize to the little girl whose hair he very likely pulled on purpose.  “You’ll do just fine.”

 

The tall, regal form of his father strode in to the room, looking every inch a Malfoy prince from his perfectly tailored robes to his jade inlaid walking stick.  He glanced down at a pocket watch that Draco recognized as a family heirloom. “Draco, it’s time.”

 

“It’s time.  Right.”  Shrugging on the coat to his tuxedo, Draco took once last glance at himself in the mirror, straightening his shoulders and taking a deep breath.  “Marriage.”

 

……….

 

_Thirteen Years Later_

 

“Scorpius Abraxas Malfoy if you don’t get your tail down these stairs right this minute I will educate you at home while your sister goes to Hogwarts!” 

 

Hermione was practically foaming at the mouth she was so fed up with her son and his inability to be anywhere on time.  She had sent him upstairs to his bedroom to retrieve exactly one pair of trainers to pack in his trunk and he had been gone for precisely twenty minutes.  He could’ve traversed their entire home, the garden, and taken a dip in the pool in less time.     

 

Draco, who had been leaning against the wall watching as his wife worked herself into a snit over their son’s blatant disregard for her instructions, looked down at his eleven-year-old daughter with her perfect blonde curls who managed to look guilty over her brother’s behavior.

 

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to get distracted…” Lyra said in a paltry attempt to defend her brother. 

 

“Do you want your mother to make good on her threat?” Draco asked.

 

“I’ll go get him.” Lyra rolled her eyes and practically stomped away from the wall and scampered up the stairs, past her mother who seemed to have calmed down, if only marginally.

 

Hermione crossed her arms and leaned against the banister, waiting for her children to once again descend the stairs.  Draco slipped behind her and snaked his arms around her waist before nuzzling the soft, sensitive skin of her neck with his lips.

 

“He’s going to be so lost without that girl.”  Hermione muttered, though she did relax back into her husband’s embrace.

 

“There’s still a chance they could be sorted into the same house.”  Draco offered, though he knew it wasn’t remotely true.  Lyra was every bit a Ravenclaw while Draco would just be thankful if Scorpius managed to be sorted at all.  He was certain to give the Sorting Hat a conundrum of epic proportions, though he only house Draco was certain Scorpius would not be sorted into was Ravenclaw.  While Scorpius possessed all of the cunning and ambition necessary to follow his father’s footsteps in Slytherin House, he was also unfailingly honest and loyal like a Hufflepuff, and despite his attempts at self-preservation, he was also unwittingly brave and wore his emotions on his sleeve like his pride of Gryffindor pseudo-cousins. 

 

“Not on your life, Draco Malfoy.”  Hermione swore, tilting her head to press a kiss to the curve of his jaw.

 

Hermione and Draco caught sight of the twins at the top of the stairs.  Lyra bounded down joyfully while Scorpius developed a sudden interest in his shoes as he practically slunk down the stairs.  The pair of adults exchanged a knowing glance between them.

 

“Lyra, love, let’s go put the trunks in the car while your father has a word with your brother, hmm?”  Hermione said, stretching her hand out to her daughter who took it without protest and walked with her mother towards the foyer.

 

Scorpius plopped down on the bottom step and balanced his elbow on his knee before resting his chin in his hand and looking as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

 

“Still worried?” Draco asked, taking a seat next to his son with his legs stretched out before him. 

 

Scorpius nodded, continuing to stare at his shoes.

 

“I think you’ll enjoy it, though.  Your sister will be there and so will all of your cousins.  It’s Lily’s first year too, and Marigold, remember?”  The Weasley and Potter girls were nothing like their delicate, flowery names suggested.  In fact, they got into at least as much mischief as his own son and daughter did, though Lyra was smart about it and attempted to be the voice of reason while the other three just traipsed off and ignored her, eventually pulling the studious girl into the fun.

 

“What if I don’t?”  Scorpius asked in a very small voice. 

 

Draco wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders.  “If you truly have a horrible time with it, Mum and I will pull you out at Christmas.  You can go back to attending your primary school and your mum and I can educate you at home.”

 

“This living between two worlds thing is hard, dad.” Scorpius admitted. 

 

For his entire life Scorpius and Lyra had been brought up equally in the wizarding and the muggle worlds.  His mum still taught at a muggle school while privately tutoring children from wizarding families while his father worked two days per week at the muggle hospital down the road and two days per week at St. Mungo’s.  Both were published researchers, his dad in the field of medical and mundane surgery and his mother in educational theory. 

 

Scorpius and Lyra had played on muggle football teams since they knew how to take directions and had also ridden brooms, despite their mother’s protests, since they could walk. Their first bursts of accidental magic happened at the same time and required a team of Obliviators to come since it happened when they were performing in a Christmas play at their muggle school.  Lyra made the star resemble an actual, tiny celestial body rather than the cardboard cutout it was while Scorpius had just wanted the plastic animals to be real. 

 

There were times when his father wore glamour charms to hide his appearance while his mother straightened out her curls.  When those days occurred, Lyra looked adopted with her cascade of platinum blonde curls while Scorpius actually looked like both his mother and father, having inherited his mother’s brown hair, though it was completely straight.  There were days where they were Scorpius and Lyra Moore rather than Scorpius and Lyra Malfoy and their parents were simply Drake and Maya Moore, surgeon and educator.  Other days, they were simply the Malfoy twins and their parents were the famous Hermione Granger, war heroine, and Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and medical pioneer. 

 

The twins had a lot to live up to and while Lyra certain had the wit and ambition to make something wonderful of herself, Scorpius often found himself drifting along, wondering if he would ever be good enough to fit into their family of greats.  His uncles and aunts were even famous, not to mention Granny and Grandfather Malfoy and the fact that they practically lived in a castle and held a seat in Parliament and the Wizengamot.

 

“Your mother and I wanted to give you and Lyra the choice, Scorp.  It was a choice we didn’t have until we were adults and circumstances forced us from one world into another.”

 

Scorpius leaned against his dad, his arms wrapped around his knees and sighed.  “I’ve heard the story, dad.  I know what happened.” 

 

“You’ll always have the choice of what world you want to live in and your mother and I will be perfectly happy with whatever you decide.”

 

Nodding his head, Scorpius pushed himself away from his father and stood up, straightening his clothing.  “Thanks, dad.”

 

Draco smiled fondly at his son and ruffled his hair after standing up from the steps causing a bit of a protest and a whine from the younger of his twins.  “You ready?” 

 

“Yeah, dad. I’m ready.” 

……….

 

Hermione watched as the sleek form of the train chugged away from the station until it became a small blip on the horizon, carrying her two precious children away for what she was certain would be some of the best years of their lives.  She looked around the platform at the people surrounding her. 

 

Draco stood nearby discussing his latest research with Marcus and Daphne Belby, Marcus being one of the other Lead Healers from St. Mungo’s whose child was also heading off to Hogwarts this year.  Pansy and Ron were engaged in a quiet conversation with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, while the latter held the most recent addition to the ever growing Weasley family.  Astoria Zabini and her husband Blaise were nearby, cooing over the newborn in Narcissa’s arms.  Molly and Arthur Weasley were nearby attempting to wrangle two of their younger grandchildren as they laughed about something one of the children did with Harry and Ginny Potter who had just sent their last child off to Hogwarts with her two brothers.  Theo Nott and his partner Oliver Wood were clustered near Hannah Longbottom and her son, whose husband Neville was already preparing for another term at Hogwarts.

 

It was only Hermione who stood on the outskirts of their rather large network of family and friends, her heart full and thankful for everyone’s support since their return to the wizarding world some thirteen years ago. 

 

Draco caught sight of the wistful expression on his wife’s face, took his leave from the conversation he was having with the Belbys and crossed the platform to wrap her up into his arms. 

 

“We should know by tonight where they’ve been sorted.”  Draco said, knowing Lyra would likely put quill to parchment in the middle of the welcome feast. 

 

“Oh, I’m not worried about that.”  Hermione said, pulling her arms around her husband and tucking herself safely away in his arms.  “I was thinking about how different everything has been for the past thirteen years.”

 

“There was only that minor hiccup with the Prophet in the beginning and after we bought half of their holdings, everything settled down.”

 

Hermione nodded.  “Quite true.  I’m very pleased with the life we’ve built, Draco.”

 

“Me too.” Pressing a kiss to Hermione’s curls, Draco squeezed her tightly.  While he had certainly never imagined a life where he would skirt the magical and mundane worlds, married to Hermione Granger, no less, he was nevertheless overjoyed about their circumstances. 

 

“How about some coffee?”  

 

A sly grin spread across Hermione’s lips as she glanced up at her husband. “Who are you going to be today?”

 

“Just me, I think.” Draco replied, gesturing to himself in all of his blonde haired, grey eyed glory.  Hermione chuckled as they waved to their family and friends as they moved to exit the platform.

 

“Alright then, Dr. Malfoy.  Coffee it is.”

 

 


End file.
